Twin Spirits
by Aromene
Summary: A different take on the events of the Third Age in the valley of Imladris.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

**And since this story will go right up to…whatever end it may, I'm taking some liberties with the events told during the War of the Ring.  Mostly the liberty of adding in two characters who were never there in the books.  But it's not like _that hasn't been done before._**

**So, here's _my take on things.  Women (Elven and mortal) were not common in Tolkien's books.  If Arwen hadn't gotten into the appendices then she would have had a total of ONE mention in the __entire book.  And besides Galadriel's short scenes at Lórien and Éowyn's slightly more important role in ROTK, females in general are not talked of much.  So if Arwen barely got mention, and Elladan and Elrohir are in only a handful of scenes, who's to say that maybe Elrond didn't have more children?  Females who weren't important in the plot.  The only thing that goes against this thought that is confirmed as Tolkien canon, is that Arwen was the last born.  Curse me if you _****wis****h, but I hate this idea.  But it stands nonetheless: so, this story is AU from that standpoint ONLY.  But then, I **nev******er much liked the idea Legolas was older than Arwen….**

**Hate me if you wish, but don't read the story and then ****fla****me me for my opinion.  I do believe in freewill and free thought after all.**

**I tried my hardest to keep the known characters in canon, at least to a certain point.  But really, we never see Elrond's "fatherly" side beyond his overprotective nature towards Arwen, or any indication of the relationship between Estel and his foster-brothers, so I wrote what _I thought was believable.   _**

**Any spelling mistakes are my own.  Any mistakes in the Elvish are also my own, and I would appreciate a correction.**

**Enjoy!**

**Arë**** a Andúnë  **

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            On the spring equinox in the year 651 of the Third Age, one of only two days of the year of equal moonlight and sunlight, were born in Imladris twin girls.  Their birth would become something of a legend among the elves, though the girls would have little effect on the greater events of that Age.  Indeed there would be few outside of their homeland that would know exactly who they were, or care; but their lives and their love would reach to those whose lives did influence the events of the last age of the Elves.  

            Their birth itself was the strangest any had ever witnessed, even those elves that still remembered the days before the fall of Gondolin.  The first was born before dawn, when the stars still twinkled overhead and the full moon shone down upon the valley.  For this reason she would grow to love the night, and the stars most of all, and often she would shun the daylight.  Her sister followed her birth moments later, but long enough to allow the sky to lighten with the coming morning; and just as the sun first rose above the horizon, its rays barely seen between the mountain peaks, the youngest let her first cries carry across the valley to greet the morn.  This one would always favor the day, and the brightness of clear blue sky and summer mornings, but neither would she shun the darkness, loving the stars as all elves do.  

            The sun rising over the trees, cast its rays down onto the peaceful valley, pouring in through the windows of the Lord and Lady's room, spreading across the bed to rest gently upon the faces of the two twin girls nestled in their mother's arms.  

            Elrond Peredhel, Half-Elven in the tongue of Westernesse, sat in a chair at his wife's side, exhaustion from a night of no sleep was barely discernable under the joyful smile that crossed his features.  He laid a hand softly on his wife's silver hair, looking down at his newest and hopefully last, he thought, children.  

            They were a marvel indeed.  Firstly that they had even been conceived, for Elrond had been so sure that their family was complete when their daughter Arwen had been born.  But he had been wrong; not even he had foreseen this event.  Then there had been their birth…Elrond looked out the window across his valley, seeing the equinox rays dancing on the trees and waterfalls.  Never had an elven birth had so many portents, and even he couldn't explain what they all meant.  The girls' births had been nothing like his twin sons, which didn't especially surprise him, but this night had been strange nonetheless.  

            For one thing, elven births were usually easy, and Celebrían had never had a problem before; but she had gone into labor early the previous evening, and it had been a good eleven hours since then.  She was exhausted from the struggle, and had been unable to get any sleep, even fitful naps throughout the night.  And to have twins born more than a few minutes apart….  True, Elrohir had been a problem during birth; almost as if he hadn't wanted to leave the safety of his mother's womb.  And indeed, even grown though he was now, he was still very much his mother's son.  But this one; he looked down at the youngest of the two girls.  Ai, she had taken much coxing, and even now, cuddled at her mother's side, she seemed as if she wanted nothing more than to be back inside the safety of her mother.  This one would always be his wife's, Elrond thought.  No matter how much she loved him, she would always go to Celebrían for aid.  

            Her sister, however, reminded him of Arwen.  She was already a fighter and a loud crier as well.  No doubt she would always want to come first in everything, and have everything her own way.  She would not be quiet, just like Arwen, and even Elladan.  

            But still, looking at the two, he could not believe they were his.  Nothing in their appearance had they gotten from their father.  They looked like young duplicates of their mother, but with the golden hair of Lórien that was their grandmother's defining attribute.  They would forever struggle in life in trying to make others believe that they were the daughters of Lord Elrond of Imladris, except to those who would see them raised.  

            So different these two twins...so different and yet so alike.

            Elrond smiled as he realized his wife had finally fallen asleep.  He should go to his own rest, while the children still slept.  

            Gently removing the twin closest to the edge of the bed, he held her cradled in his arms as he walked to the balcony.  

            The sun was now up above the trees, shinning warmly down on the grounds as he held his youngest.

            The babe stirred in her sleep, opening her tiny eyes, the blue-grey irises shinning in the sun; she turned her face towards the glowing warmth.

            Elrond laughed, the sound ringing across the air, wrapping itself around the trees as it echoed across the still valley.

            "My beautiful daughter, Arómenë I name you; sunrise and sunlight.  Forever shall you look to the sun and the coming morn."  The child smiled up at her father, before closing her eyes once again in sleep.

            Elrond laughed again as he made his way back inside.  He held her to him as he lay down next to his wife in bed, the twin girls safely between them.

            He fell asleep with the image of his wife and children burned into his mind; the girls' blond hair sparkling gold in the morning light.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            It was late morning when Celebrían finally awoke from her restorative sleep.  She breathed deeply of the fresh spring air that wafted through the open door to the balcony.  Focusing her eyes on the room, she noticed her husband, lying curled on his side in front of her, creating a protective enclosure for the two identical sleeping elflings.

            Celebrían sighed in pure contentment.  She had been nearly as surprised as her husband when she had discovered this latest pregnancy, but she certainly wasn't regretting it now.  The twin girls were beautiful; the very image of her grandmother, and by extension herself.  She couldn't wait to watch them grow, as she had watched Arwen.

            Elrond sighed in his sleep and focused his eyes on his wife, smiling at her.  Celebrían smiled back and pushed herself into a sitting position.  She gently picked up the infant nearest to her and held her close to her breast.  She suddenly realized she had no idea which was which.

            Her husband immediately picked up on her confusion, and, picking the other child up in his arms, he held her up for his wife to see.

            "This is Arómenë: our youngest."

            Celebrían's eyes glowed like the sun as she beheld the child her husband had named.

            Smiling in joy she looked down at the one in her arms.  "And this shall be Andúnë.  And she shall look to the stars and to the moon, always."

            "Perfect, meleth nin," her husband whispered, and leaned over the two children to plant a kiss on her forehead.

            The sun streamed through the windows as the distant sounds of the valley's inhabitants floated through the open door, and the parents held their new children close.


	2. Dreams and Visions

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

"Ow!" Elrohir cried as the top of his head connected with the underneath of the bed.  His brother barely caught himself before he laughed out loud.

            Elrohir glared at him, but otherwise ignored his twin.  "I give up," he said as he rose slowly to his feet.

            The elves both turned to stare at their father who had adopted a slightly exasperated and concerned look.

            "Rómë, please, won't you come out?  Dúnë?" he asked cautiously.  

            Elrond and Celebrían had been startled awake less than ten minutes before, in the middle of the night, by the loud wailing of their twin daughters.  They had all but run down the hallway to the elflings' room only to find their grown twin sons already trying to coax the children from under the bed.  So far the girls were having none of it.

            His sons had obviously given up; they were standing beside each other a few feet from the bed talking quietly and obviously waiting for their parents to do something.

            Elrond sighed and turned to his wife.  Celebrían smiled tiredly at him and knelt down beside the bed.

            The two-year-olds were snuggled against each other in the far back corner, wrapped it a warm blanket against the winter chill and both crying.  Celebrían's heart went out to them.  "Come here tithen gwenyn nin," she held her hand out to them.

            Her youngest looked at her cautiously and then turned to her sister.  For a moment they stared at each other, and Celebrían was suddenly certain that even at the age of two they could communicate mentally.  Elladan and Elrohir had been five before they showed such signs.  The elf lady's daughters were indeed a marvel. 

            Andúnë reached her hand out to clasp her mother's and slowly edged herself out from under the bed, her sister following behind.  The moment they stood up, Arómenë threw herself into her mother's arms and her father stepped forward to claim her twin and lift her up into his arms.

            "It is alright now, sell nin.  Everything will be alright," Celebrían hugged her child close as she exchanged a pointed look with her husband over the children's heads.

            "Why do you not come to bed with us?" Elrond asked the crying child in his arms.  

            She said nothing, only looked up at him with large blue eyes that were red from her tears and nodded her head.

            Elrond nodded to his sons.  "Thank you for trying.  Go back to your rest; we shall watch them tonight."

            The twins looked gratefully at their parents before leaving the room; the soft thud of two doors nearby announced they had gone to their rest.

            "Come iell nin, everything will be alright now."  And he carried his still crying and trembling daughter back to his rooms; Celebrían following with their youngest.

            It was the third time that week.  Elrond desperately wished his children were old enough to tell him in understandable words what it was they dreamt of, but whenever the twins awoke screaming in fear they were always too upset to form any words recognizable as elvish, dwarvish or the common tongue.  And by the time they awoke the next morning, they had conveniently forgotten all about it. 

             It was against his better judgment, not to mention his own rules on the matter, but he was beginning to think the only way of helping them might be to probe into their minds and see whatever it was that was causing them such fear.  Although he wasn't sure what he could do even when he did discover what the problem was; at least he'd know what the reason was for being wakened in the middle of the night.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            It had been three days since Lord Elrond had discovered the source of his daughters' nightmares, and he was still pondering on what exactly it meant.  Were they seeing the future already or was this just something a childish mind had dreamed up in the darkness of night?  He desperately hoped it was the latter for the reason that if it was the former, dark days were ahead and his two-year-old baby girls were already seeing things that even _he hadn't foreseen.  _

            But whichever it was he knew they were developing far too fast for his piece of mind.  He'd probably be deeply worried had he not know that he had been very similar at their age, and had, at seven nearly caused Gil-Galad to fall out of his chair when he'd looked him straight in the eye and told him that a great war was coming.   Fifty-one years later Morgoth was destroyed by an army sent by Manwë.  At that occurrence, Elrond recalled with amusement, Ereinion really _had fallen off his chair._

            The Elf Lord shook himself back to the present and tried to concentrate on the work on his desk.  He wasn't faring well.  He put the quill and ink aside with a sigh.

            Why were two-year-olds dreaming of death and blood and thousands lying on a ruined battlefield?  Why had they been cursed with great foresight as he and their daernaneth had?  Was it too much to ask for them to live their lives in peaceful innocence?

            And what could he do about it?  Certainly there were herbs that were ensure dreamless sleep, but they were infants still, and their bodies would not be able to handle them.  He could block that part of their minds; shut the door against the seeing, but it was as much a part of them as they were of each other, and he did not feel right doing that.  They would have to weather them; or at least that was what the rational part of his mind said, but it hurt him greatly to see his children in such pain and not be able to heal them.

            How had he dealt with the elven foresight when he was young?  He had had his brother there, his twin; to sit with him at night when the visions became to much; to comfort him when he dreamed of death and despair; and when the dreams overpowered him, to go and fetch the healers to put him into dreamless sleep.

            But his daughters were only two, and neither of them could do much for the other except see the visions themselves.  He would have to be the one to comfort them and tell them things would be alright and to not cry.  He would have to make them understand, somehow, that what they saw was not real now, but would happened many years into the future when they were grown.

            Sometime he wondered whether his elven blood was indeed a gift.


	3. Accidents

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            "Dúnë, I do not think that is a very good idea.  What if Ada catches you?"

            Her twin was already half way up the trunk of the rather large tree that sat behind the council circle outside their father's study.

            The elfling did not even glance down as she continued climbing.  "Ada is not even in his study.  I know; I looked.  Besides, nothing will happen and I shall be back down in a moment.  Honestly Rómë, you worry too much.  You sound like Naneth."

            Arómenë scowled at her sister; a look that did not at all suit her perfect features and angelic face.  Although at the age of only four summers, she was really much too young to worry about such things.  Except when her sister was trying to climb a tree that their parents had expressibly forbidden them to ever climb.  A warning their brothers had reinforced at every opportunity.  Not that things like that every stopped Andúnë when she put her mind to it.

            Which didn't mean the youngest daughter of Lord Elrond of Imladris was going to sit by and let her sister attempt something that would probably lead to serious injury if she fell.  Not that Arómenë had any idea of what would happen; children rarely think of such things, but she was well aware of how angry Ada would be if he caught his daughter at this.

            The youngest sighed.  For a moment she debated whether to leave and find her father, but she discarded that thought quickly.  Andúnë would hate her for telling.  But almost as soon as the thought had disappeared, she caught a movement in the study out of the corner of her eye, and turned sharply to see her father sit down at his desk.

            _Oh no!, she thought, he would surely see them now and then Andúnë would get into plenty of trouble.  Arómenë didn't like when her sister was in trouble.  It meant she had no one but her vastly older brothers to play with, and they were almost always away on trips for their father._

            She should at least warn her sister their father was nearby, but she could no longer see her green dress among the branches.  "Dúnë," she called softly, walking around to the far side of the tree so she was out of her father's line of sight.  "Dúnë, Ada is in his study, you must come down."

            There was no whispered answer from above, and for a moment the elfling did not think she had been heard.  A moment later, however, instead of the soft call she was expecting, she heard an ear splitting crack from above and stood gap mouthed as her sister and a rather substantial tree branch tumbled to the ground.  The branch went _thud_ and her sister went _crack and then cried out sharply in pain.  Arómenë was at her side instantly, screaming for her father._

            Elrond had just set quill to paper when an almighty crash sounded outside his study, followed a split second later by a thud and a loud yell of pain.  He was already out of his chair and striding up the steps toward the council area when his youngest's scream reached his ears.  

            Andúnë had landed in the shrubs behind the tree, and was partly concealed by the trunk until he rounded it.  She was lying on her side, clutching her right arm closely and crying in pain.  Her twin didn't seem to be much better, although it was obvious to Elrond only the eldest was injured.  Arómenë often reacted to things that affected her sister, almost as if she felt what the other felt.  He had never given it much thought, having witnessed it between his twin sons, and he himself had a vague memory of similar occurrences when he and Elros were children.

            He took his youngest in his arm as he knelt by their side.  Biting back on a strong urge to scold his often wayward daughter, he gently pried her left hand away from her injured arm.  It was quite obvious it was broken; and by the angle of it, quite seriously.  He sighed to himself, and then letting go of his youngest, he eased her sister up into his arms, careful of the broken bone, and walked back into his study.

            How one elfling managed to get into so many scrapes he could not even guess.  Elladan and Elrohir had been rambunctious as children, but then they were male and he had expected that.  But Arwen had been a quiet child, at least when her bothers were not trying to get her involved in things she should not have been involved in.  Arómenë was the same.  But this one….this one seemed worse; almost as if she went looking for every possible hint of danger.

            Arómenë trailed after him as he left his study and crossed the hall to a room he seemed to use all too frequently since his daughters' births.  As gently as he could, he laid the injured child on the raised table in the center of the room.

            "Arómenë, go and fine your mother and tell her to come here.  And then you may find a book in the library and read until the evening meal."

            The child looked ready to protest about being sent away, but decided that if her father said 'Go', she had better go.

            Quickly she slipped out of the room, making sure to close the door behind her before running off to find her naneth.  

            Elrond sighed as her heard the door close.  He hated to send her from the room, but she was still young and did not need to be waking up with nightmares of her twin in pain.  And she certainly did not need to witness him reset the bone.

            "Shush, tithen min, the pain will be gone soon.  Do not cry Andúnë, everything will be well.  Your mother will be here soon."  He soothed her gently as she tried to curl onto her side in pain.  "Relax," he whispered as he laid a hand to her forehead.  With a little help from the sapphire ring upon his finger, he stilled her struggles and she relaxed under his hands.  "Twill be alright.  You shall be running around the woods again in a few weeks.  And out of bed by tomorrow.  Do not worry.  I am not angry little one.  That was a very foolish thing to do, but I think you have more than learned your lesson."

            She stopped her soft cries and gazed at her father in surprise.  "You are really not mad?  I _am_ sorry Ada.  I was not thinking.  It will not happen again."  She looked on the verge of resuming her cries of pain when she caught sight of her mother entering the room.

            "Naneth!  It hurts so.  I am sorry for climbing the tree, just please make the pain go away."  She burst into sobs once more.

            "Hush, iell nin.  I am here, and I am not mad."  She took her daughter into her arms and soothed her gently.  Elrond, delivered from his comfort of the child, moved to the cabinet against the far wall to mix the child a strong sedative and pain killer.  She did not need to be awake for what was to come.

            He returned to his wife's side quickly, holding out the goblet for her to take.  She would probably get the child to drink it faster than he could.  Andúnë was notorious for not obeying her father, and he did not think this time would be any different.

            Celebrían lifted the drink to her daughter's lips, and without a complaint the elfling drank it down, barely grimacing at the taste.  Elrond smiled down at her.

            "Hush iell nin.  The pain will be gone in a moment and you will sleep. Everything will be well when you awaken and we shall be here.  Do not fight it, tithen min."  He laid a calming hand on her forehead, and as her eyes closed in induced sleep he used his own power to send her deeper into unconsciousness where she would not awake for many hours.

            Celebrían bent gently to kiss her forehead and then laid her down flat upon the table.  "Do you wish me to stay?" she asked her husband.

            Elrond was already on his way back to the cupboard to collect a splint and bandages.  "Only if you wish.  She will not awaken soon and I do not need assistance in setting the bone, but I would not ask you to leave either."

            "Perhaps I will see to our youngest.  She is no doubt quite upset over what has happened.

            "Very well," he nodded as she swept silently from the room.

            He turned his attention back to his daughter and with gentle hands examined the break.  It was not as serious as he had originally thought when he had seen her lying among the bushes.  But serious or not, it still needed to be set.  He paused to kiss her forehead, knowing she would not be aware of it, but needing the comfort in some way himself.  

            She looked so innocent and young lying there.  He wished she would let him protect her from the world and what was beyond the borders of Imladris.  But she had an adventurous heart, much like that of her brothers, and he knew she would never be content to live out her days within the confines of his valley.

            He sighed and set to work.


	4. What's a Healer?

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings. I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books. Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man). Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

"Ada?" came the small voice at his knee. 

Elrond Peredhel glanced downwards to find his youngest daughter gently tugging on his robes, her eyes wide and a questioning look on her face.

"Yes, tithen min, what is it?" This had been her favorite way of getting his attention since she was old enough to crawl. Her sister, however, usually screamed his name, whether he was in hearing distance or not.

"Ada, El'dan said you were a great healer." She paused, and he wondered whether it had been intended as a question. "What's a healer?"

He couldn't help himself, he laughed, the sound ringing across his study, filling all the small hallows and nooks of the vast library.

"You did not think to ask him, iell nin? Well then, I suppose I shall have to explain."

He looked down at his daughter, and in one quick movement swung her up into his arms and walked over to one of the benches along the wall. Settling against the pillows even as the young elfling settled in his lap, he thought about how best to explain the concept to one who was barely five summers old; young even in the reckoning of men.

"Do you remember the incident last year when Andúnë broke her arm?" The girl nodded. "And do you remember what happened?"

She nodded again before speaking in her soft, flowing voice. "She said you made the pain go away. But she had to be careful for days after that, and she couldn't go swimming or run through the garden."

He smiled down at her. The things that were important to children…

"A healer is someone who makes a wound or injury better. It is their skill that cures the sick and stops the pain. Do you understand?"

The elfling seemed to consider this before answering. "I think so. Only a healer could have made the pain in Dúnë's arm go away?"

Elrond chuckled. How the young liked to simplify things. "Yes, just like that."

"Can I be a healer?" Her eyes gleamed with eagerness, and an innocence he had long forgotten existed in the world. Sometimes his daughters could be such good reminders that the world wasn't only filled with sadness and pain.

"If you wish to be. But it will take many years of study and learning, and it is not an easy thing to master." _Nor live with_, he added to himself.

"I do wish Ada! Can we start now? I want to learn everything!" The child clapped her hands together, practically bouncing upon his lap.

"Why not? It is never too young to learn some useful skills in life."

Gently taking Arómenë into his arms as he rose he carried her over to one of the many book shelves that lined the wall. This particular one seemed dustier than the others, but he had not forgotten in all the long years, where the books he sought for were. Setting the child down on a nearby table he scanned the second shelf, almost immediately coming upon a leather bound book, quite large and heavy. He turned and set it down in his daughter's lap. She simply stared at it. He couldn't help himself this time either, he laughed again. She seemed a bit put out by this and glanced up at him sharply. He stilled his laughter immediately and then opened the book for her. Thumbing through the pages he came across the one he sought. Smiling he pointed at the drawing.

"This is called Athelas. Can you say that?"

She looked a bit heartbroken that her father had just implied she could not say a word. "Athelas," she said, pronouncing it perfectly. He smiled his praise at her.

"Very good. That is its name in Sindarin. It is also called Kingsfoil, asea aranion, Westmansweed and Galenas, among others. It will ease pain caused by an injury and also speed healing. There are tales of the healing powers of Athelas; mostly out of the Kingdom of Gondor in the south…you know where Gondor is?"

"Yes Ada, it's beside Rohan." She seemed to know that was not the exact answer he had sought. Elrond smiled wryly. 

"It is a very powerful herb and should not be used lightly. And there are also very few alive who can harness its full ability. My line is, perhaps, one of the last left. This means, Arómenë, that when you are older and have learned a great deal more about healing and herbs, you too will be able to control this plant's greatest power."

She stared at him wide eyed. Her hands clutched at the book in her lap tightly as she turned her startled eyes upon the page.

"I think perhaps that is enough of a lesson for today. We will continue this tomorrow."

She nodded, still staring at the book, before she slipped out from under it and wriggled to the floor. "Thank you Ada," she beamed up at him and then fled from the room, no doubt to find her twin and tell her all she had learned. He wondered if Andúnë would be here asking him to teach her the art of healing next.

Smiling he closed the book and placed it back upon the shelf, returning to his work that he had been in the middle of before his youngest's interruption. 

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

"Ada!?" The cry sounded down the hallway and through the open door of the Lord of Imladris' study. The Lord's head shot up from his reading in alarm.

A small figure, only a few feet high, came barreling through the door and came to an abrupt stop at her father's feet.

Elrond sighed in relief. He desperately wished his daughter would not act as if everything was a life or death situation. Every time she screamed his name he was sure something terrible had happened. 

"Ada, can you teach me healing like you did Rómë?"

He was torn between scolding her and laughing. He decided neither was probably the best; instead, he looked down at his young child with a raised eyebrow and a questioning face.

"And why would you wish to learn healing, tithen min?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.

"I want to learn. It's not fair if you only teach Rómë. I want to be a great healer, just like you!" She was practically dancing at his feet.

Elrond Peredhil sighed. So much for his quiet afternoon of work.

He stood and swept across the room to the same bookshelf he had showed his youngest only that morning. Taking the same book in hand he turned and nearly collided with his daughter. She grinned up at him. He couldn't help but smile back down at her. Walking back to his chair he made himself comfortable before pulling her up into his lap. Setting the book in her lap, he opened it the same page he had shown her sister earlier. If he taught her something else her twin would be back promptly to scold him and ask to be taught the same thing. And he did have work to do.

"This is Athelas," he pointed to the drawing of the herb. Refraining himself from asking her if she could pronounce it like he had Arómenë. "It is also called Galenas, Kingsfoil, Westmansweed, asea aranion, and others besides. It is used in healing serious injuries and will ease pain, but only when used by those trained in its art and who have the ability to harness its full power. You are one, as is your sister, and all those of my line."

She gazed up at him in awe, not knowing what to say to that. Finally she simply nodded. "Thank you Ada!" She grinned up at him and, wriggling from his lap made an exit very similar to her entrance.

Elrond couldn't help but smile. He placed the book on his study table, within reach, and returned to his work.


	5. Learning the Hard Way

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            Sweet Eru, how had he been so certain his youngest was the quiet and peaceful one?  In ten years she had never let on that she'd be the first to try to ride Glorfindel's warhorse.  He'd have pegged Andúnë for that.  In fact, when Elladan was that age he would have bet the child would have tried that stunt.  But none of his other children ever had.  

            And yet here was his youngest, standing sullenly in the center of his study, eyes downcast, covered in dirt and mud from her tumble off a horse that was too big and powerful for her even if she had been grown.

            Elrond sighed, trying to calm himself back to a state where he knew he could speak without yelling.   He opened his mouth to say something, and caught his voice just in time before he let out an exclamation over her stupidity.  Yelling would not help matters.

            "Why?" he settled on the simplest question.

            She didn't look at him, but when she spoke her voice trembled and he was struck instantly by the thought that she was afraid of him; afraid of what he might do.  

            "I am sorry Ada.  I know that it was a stupid thing to do, and I did not think it through, and for that I have only myself to blame." She paused in thought for a moment.  "I will go to my room now; you do not have to heal my wrist.  I deserved it."  And without waiting for an answer she started for the study door.

            He might be angry but she had obviously learned her lesson from the fall, and would not be riding warhorses anytime soon; he felt no reason to physically punish her, certainly he had never done it to her before.  It was apparent, however, that she had obviously learned from her sister what happened when father got really angry.  Spankings were never an easy punishment to take.  He wondered if he should give her one just to make sure she never did anything so ludicrous again, but thought better of it.  She was terrified of him now, physical punishment might be more than she could take.  And no doubt her sprained wrist was giving her pain enough.

            He was out of his chair and across the room before she could even react.  Just as quickly he swept her up into his arms and held her as she released her held back tears.

            "I am not so terribly angry with you Arómenë.  I believe you have learned your lesson, and gained wisdom because of it.  Unfortunately, it is usually through experience we learn the best.  And I would never, _never_ be so angry as to not treat an injury, child.  That is something you must learn if you wish to be a healer.  Now come, and let me take a look at that wrist.  You are in pain, I see it.  Did you hurt anything else in your fall?"  

            He carried her the rest of the way towards the door and slipped across the hall to the healing room, setting her gently down on the table.

            She sniffled, whipping her tears away with the already dirty sleeve of her shirt.  "No Ada, just a few scrapes, but they're not bad."

            He looked at her appraisingly for a moment.  "Lets get these clothes off.  And after I am done, you can have a nice hot bath and get clean before supper."  He was already undoing the buttons of her shirt.  

            She smiled up at him and pushed his hands away, undoing the rest of them herself; showing her father quite clearly she was old enough to undress herself, even with a sprained wrist.  He stepped back and let her.

            He took a sheet down from one of the shelves and wrapped it around her bare shoulders.  She slipped off the high table, landing softly on the ground and proceeded to struggled out of the tight riding pants she wore, finally sitting down to unlace her boots and slipped them off with the pants.  She pulled the sheet tightly around her and turned to climb back up.  She was a good foot too short to manage it.

            Elrond was still watching her as she turned and looked at him, obviously waiting for him to help her up.  He grinned at her and she smiled back as he lifted her easily onto the table.  

            He took her wrist first, and gently examined it.  "Just a mild sprain; you will be back running around with the other children tomorrow.  But try to stay off the warhorses from now on?"  She nodded at him, biting her lip to keep from grinning.  

            He decided better than to take her word for her lack of other injuries and instead pushed her gently down to lie on the table as he examined the rest of her.  Her "not bad scrapes" turned out to be a skinned knee that was still oozing blood and a scraped elbow as well.  He shook his head and chuckled to himself.  

            Going over to the shelves along the far wall, he took down a bottle of ointment and bandages.  He deposited them on the table beside his daughter and set about filling a bowl with water from a nearby carafe.  He bathed the scraped knee and elbow, cleaning the dirt from the wounds and then smothered them in cooling ointment that smelled strongly of peppermint, his daughter's favorite scent.  He bandaged her knee, leaving the elbow wound free to heal in the open air.  

            She winced slightly as he took her wrist again and tenderly wrapped it tightly with bandages to keep her from bending it excessively.  And because she was only a ten-year-old elfling who had just fallen off a warhorse, he tied a sling across her shoulder that would hopefully prevent her from bashing her arm against something else, and also remind her that she _was_ injured.  Maybe he _should confine her to bed for the rest of the day, if only to keep her from getting any additional injuries.  _

            Once he was done he wrapped the sheet around her once more and picking her up, carried her slowly back to her room.  There he helped her clean the dirt from her skin without getting her bandages wet, and then got her into a clean nightgown.  

            Ignoring her protests on the matter he pushed her towards the bed, promising that if she stayed quiet and rested until dinner she could come to the Hall of Fire for songs and stories afterward.

            Arómenë decided this wasn't a bad deal, considering she had expected when she had been pushed by Glorfindel into her father's study an hour before to be thrown into the dungeons.  Although the rational part of her mind had told her there _weren't_ any dungeons in Imladris.

            "Thank you Ada," his youngest said to him as he tucked her in.

            "You are welcome iell nin, but please, no more horses for a few years yet?"  She nodded, smiling.  "Alright, please try to rest," and he kissed her forehead softly before leaving.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            She shouldn't be doing this.  She knew that.  But it was going to be so much fun, and it wasn't like it was dangerous or anything.  Just a small little joke on her father's advisor.  Erestor would probably see the humor in it later.  She hoped.

            She had donned breeches and a shirt for her late night game; covering both with a dark cape so as to avoid any eyes that might discover her.  She hadn't told her sister about her little "idea" of how to cheer up the dower advisor, who seemed to have been in an even worse mood than normal lately.  Bad enough that even her father had made a joke at the elf's expense the other day.

            The elfling grinned to herself as she crept along the garden wall towards the advisor's room.

            She paused just below the window to the right room, noticing quickly that there was no light coming from inside.  For although Erestor was known to keep late hours, the night was waning towards sunrise and no one was either still up or had risen yet.  

            She jumped in one smooth motion, catching the vine above her in one hand and reaching out towards the windowsill with the other.  In one burst of fabled elven strength she used her arms to propel her up and pulled herself over the sill; dropping silently into the room beyond.

            Indeed Erestor was very much asleep, but he was an elf, and they slept lightly and with both ears and eyes still very much aware of their surroundings.  She would have to stay to the deepest shadows so as not to be seen, and hope he did not sense her presence.

            She thought her plan most brilliant, but then she was only a twelve-year-old elfling, and although not exceptionally young to the race of men, and indeed not even considered childish in mind to the elves, she was nonetheless still thinking very much like a young child.  Which was why the thought of putting fresh flowers around the room and scenting Erestor's soaps and carafe of water was her brilliant scheme.  That and depositing a well written letter in a strategic spot right in front of the door to make it seem as if it had been slipped underneath overnight.  The letter was written in her own perfect flowing script, and the paper was scented with lilac and rose and in the bottom corner was a distinctive shaped of female lips outlined in colour.  Her own.

            She smiled even wider and had to choke back a laugh as she set the envelope down.  The grumpy advisor never did pay much attention to the female elves, but she though he just needed a little incentive.  It was unsigned of course, but hopefully that would just make him believe it even more.

            She'd keep it up, depending on his reaction.  If false love letters from some unknown elven maiden cheered him up, she was willing to be the one to write them.  

            Turning once more around the room to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, she paused to observe the slumbering elf for a moment.  No, he was still very much asleep.

            With a suppressed giggle she slipped back out the window the way she had come.  She didn't discover until later that morning that Erestor had awoken just as she left, and in the betraying rays of the moon had seen her face.  If Arómenë had stayed but a moment longer she would have seen the look of utter disbelief and anger that graced the older elf's face.

            Of course, Erestor never had been able to tell the twin daughters of Elrond apart.


	6. A Long Awaited Journey

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings. I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books. Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man). Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

Arwen Undómiel, recently made eldest daughter of Lord Elrond, stood in the great study of Imladris in a staring match with her aforementioned father. Glorfindel paused in the doorway, debating the wisdom of entering into the middle of the argument. 

He wasn't sure at first sight who was winning, but he did know that the beautiful Númenorean statue that was sitting on Elrond's desk was more likely to get up and walk away then for either of the room's occupants to admit defeat. 

"Please?" she asked, an obvious note of exasperation in her voice.

Elrond's eyes hardened. "No."

Suddenly Arwen caught sight of Glorfindel out of the corner of her eye, and obviously thinking him a better target than her father, she abruptly ended the staring match. 

"What if Glorfindel accompanied us?" She turned her eyes back to her father.

He actually seemed to consider it for a moment, but Glorfindel wasn't about to let his future be decided for him

"Oh no, you are not dragging me into this," he started to backpedal towards the door. He had nearly reached its safety when Arwen's voice called him back. "Please Glor? I'd be ever so grateful." 

He made the grievous mistake of looking back at her to see her batting her long eyelashes at him. For a moment he was speechless, wondering where she had learned to do that, before it occurred to him that Celebrían had probably taught her. And damned if it wasn't working. But no, he would not let a pretty maiden, much less his Lord's daughter, distract him from his thoughts.

"No Arwen. I cannot leave Imladris; I have duties here…" he trailed off at the look on her face.

"Surely someone else could take care of them for a few months. You are in need of a break, Lord Glorfindel. And Lórien is beautiful this time of year." And damned if she didn't bat her eyelashes again.

He stole a glance at Elrond and immediately decided there would be no help from that quarter. He had a sinking suspicion Elrond would rather sacrifice letting his daughters go than miss an opportunity to see his chief counselor and friend try to turn down his daughter. Arwen was nothing if not persistent.

"No," he tried again, but it sounded weak even to his own ears. How could he, a hardened warrior that had seen two lifetimes of battle not stand up to a child? 

She suddenly dazzled him with the innocent, sweet smile that had always melted his heart when she was younger.

_That is how_, he thought. He sighed, resigning himself gracefully to his fate.

"If your father agrees…I will go." She turned the same look on her father, but it was clear he had already made up his mind.

Glorfindel winced as she let out a decidedly unladylike squeal and practically ran around the desk to hug her father. He smiled up at her tiredly. 

On her way passed she grabbed Glorfindel around the shoulder and rewarded him with a light kiss on his cheek before disappearing soundlessly out the door. Glorfindel looked at his Lord with a slightly dazed expression on his face, before realizing who it was he was looking at.

Clearing his throat to cover his momentary slip he bowed lightly to Elrond before retreating. It wouldn't do stay around and see what more he could be tricked into doing.

The Lord of Imladris merrily smiled to himself as he resumed his work; pleased with the way things had turned out. If it cost Glorfindel his sanity just so Elrond could have a few months peace in his home, he didn't think the price too high.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

Andúnë looked around and above her with a dazed expression on her face. Her sister, her brothers, and especially her mother had told her stories of the beauty of the home of the Galadrim, but never had she dreamed of such as _this_. 

Her first impression was a sense of peace the like of which she had never known. The second was that although she was sure it was daylight outside of the woods, within and under them a sort of half twilight existed. Without knowing why or how she suddenly was struck with the knowledge that no matter what other lands she saw, or how much she loved her father's valley of Imladris, she would never be completely content unless she walked under the mallorn trees of her mother's people.

She stole a glance sideways at her twin who walked at their elder sister's side. Arómenë also appeared overwhelmed by the serene beauty of the woods, but Andúnë knew, as surely as if it were her own thought, that Arómenë would never love these woods more than the valley. She liked night only when she had a clear view of the stars, and here they would not have that.

The eldest twin sighed to herself. They were so similar, and yet, when it came to the stars and the sun they would always go their separate ways. Which was perhaps the strangest thing of all about Elrond's youngest daughters; except for the clear fact that they were the first and only female elven twins to ever be born. They lived each day with the knowledge that they were special, in a way they could not even fathom. And despite what they had told their sister and mother, part of their reason for coming to visit Lórien was so that they could speak with their daernaneth and perhaps, or so they hoped, look into her famed mirror.

Glorfindel suddenly startled her out of her thoughts, "Please remember to show your daernaneth and daeradar proper respect. You may hug them only if they give their permission."

"Yes Glorfindel," Arómenë muttered, in a voice that their father would probably have considered disrespectful. Andúnë tried to hold back the laugh that threatened to reveal her similar thoughts. Biting her lip she nodded her understanding to their unwilling escort.

Glorfindel snorted in response and Andúnë immediately regretted having pretended to be polite. She rolled her eyes at her sister who had to catch her own chuckle. She wasn't quite as successful as her sister had been. Glorfindel merrily shot her a warning glance. Andúnë pouted at this, which of course only made her sister laugh louder and this time it earned Dúnë the glare. The young elfling thought that quite unfair, and wondered for the millionth time how it seemed her younger sister was everyone's favorite and could do no wrong. Andúnë recalled the horse riding incident with distain and shot an annoyed look at her sister.

She returned it with an equally annoyed one, having already guessed her sister's thoughts. _Dúnë really! You will get us _both_ into trouble if you continue with that much longer. It is certainly not my choice who likes me or dislikes me, and it is definitely not my fault that you have been pegged the terror and I the sweet one. That is through your own fault, seler, not mine._

_Well _seler_, if you insist on being in that mood I shall leave you to your thoughts. I will not forget any Age soon about the one time you tried to do something 'adventurous' and did _not_ get caught at it. If you recall, the one blamed was me. Because who would suspect dear, sweet, little Arómenë of such a thing? Thank Eru Glorfindel caught you when you tried to borrow his horse; otherwise I would have been the one in trouble with Ada!_

Her sister gave her no response, turning her eyes back to the wonders of the Golden Wood. They had started their ascent up the main staircase some time ago, and Andúnë could see, not much further above her, the largest of the talans that seemed to glow with an unearthly light. She was certain that it was their destination. She was also certain that the moment she beheld her grandparents, all thoughts of propriety would probably be swept from her head. She suspected that her daernaneth and daeradar might not feel it was rude if she gave them a brief hug as if they were her _grandparents_ and not just the Lord and Lady of the Wood. At that thought she glanced at Glorfindel, but he was talking with one of the guards that escorted them. 

Sighing she turned her eyes back to the steps and discovered that quite abruptly they had reached the top of the long climb and were standing on a wide talan, at the foot of a much smaller and broader flight of stairs.

The light she was unexpectedly met with was so bright that for a moment it was too much even for her elven eyes. But as suddenly as it had appeared, it vanished, and in its place stood two tall elves.

They were young and fair in look, but older, _much_ older than any other she had ever met. Here were the eldest of their race still left in Middle-earth; and their wisdom and power was known and admired throughout the elven world, and whispered and feared all through the world of men. 

The female was as tall as the male and her face was fair to look upon: fairer even than that of her granddaughter's, and her hair was gold, the same exact color that had passed to Dúnë and her twin. It shone with the Light of the Two Trees, the last representation of them on all of Arda, and with the magnificence of Valinor which she alone of all the elves of Middle-earth could remember. She held power, power so great and beautiful that it almost hurt to look upon her. Her robes were white, woven through with strands of mithril that shone in the pale light. Andúnë loved her at first sight, and felt the kinship between them immediately; here was one that understood her thoughts and feelings. And for the first time in her short life, Andúnë Peredhil felt at home.

The other elf, her husband was just as fair and powerful as she, but there was something more natural about him, and Dúnë knew it was because her daeradar had been born in Middle-earth like all other elves she had ever known. He held power too, but not as visible as that of his wife's, which perhaps caused him to remind Dúnë of her father. His robes were of silver and white and they too were woven of mithril thread so that they sparkled in the light. He beheld the group with the air of a king, proud and benevolent. Here was truly the last of the Great Lords of the elven people.

For a moment no one made any move to speak, letting the new arrivals accustom themselves to their first sight of the Lord and Lady. But the moment passed quickly as the Lord of the Galadrim spoke. 

"We welcome you to the Golden Wood, daughters of Imladris. And also Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower." And here he bowed his head in respect, Glorfindel repeating the gesture, but deeper. Galadriel was sweeping the company with her eyes, searching each of their hearts. Arwen met her eyes easily and received her daernaneth's silent greeting. Glorfindel too met the Lady's eyes easily and bowed again at whatever passed between them.

But as Galadriel's gaze sought that of Andúnë, the elfling felt as if she had suddenly gone deaf and blind to everything but what was in her mind. 

_ Welcome Child of the Stars; long have we awaited your coming._ Dúnë blinked up at her. _Thank you Lady; long have I desired to walk these woods and speak with you._

Galadriel's eyes twinkled as her laughter rang through her granddaughter's mind, _I thought as such. We shall have plenty of time to talk after you have rested from your journey._

Andúnë bowed to her gracefully and was suddenly thrown back into the present as her daernaneth's gaze left her to settle on her sister. She realized that she had missed most of what Celeborn had been saying.

He seemed to understand however and was focusing his questions on Arwen and Glorfindel until he deemed his wife finished. Andúnë pulled her eyes away to stare at her sister, only to find her sister staring right back at her. Her eyes were wide in wonder and disbelief and without a word passing between the twins they both knew instantly what the other felt, for they each felt it themselves.

"You have had a long journey," Celeborn addressed the company again. "Go to your rest and we shall speak on the morrow." He bowed his head to them as the guards led them away.

But Andúnë wasn't about to be carted off to sleep until she had greeted her grandparents properly. She pulled away from Glorfindel's guiding hand and mounted the steps in three strides, only then realizing her twin was right beside her. The bowed their heads respectfully before wrapping their arms around their grandparents; Andúnë claiming her daernaneth without a seconds protest from Rómë. 

Galadriel had seen this coming and enveloped her middle granddaughter in a welcoming hug. Celeborn was caught slightly more of guard, but seemed no less inclined to indulge his youngest grandchild. They held them for only a moment before they let the twins switch, giving equal treatment to both. 

The two stepped back smiling up at the eldest elves and dropped two perfectly timed curtsies before joining Arwen and Glorfindel at the bottom of the stairs. With only one glance back the two suffered themselves to be led away.

And so Andúnë and Arómenë Peredhil, youngest children of Lord Elrond of Imladris, finally met their legendary grandparents: it was a meeting that would later come to change their lives forever.


	7. Galadriel's Mirror

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings. I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books. Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man). Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

She awoke from Elvish dreams at the light touch of a hand on her shoulder. She blinked once, and then followed the arm up to her daernaneth's smiling face.

"What hour is it?" she asked, still not fully returned to the world.

"It is approaching dawn, child. But come with me. You and your sister have come a long way to see me. And for a chance to look into the mirror. I am granting you your wish."

Arómenë's eyes lit up in wonder at the offer, and she rose quickly from her bed to pull on a robe, allowing Galadriel a chance to wake her sister.

Andúnë, as always, awoke in an instant at the slight touch, coming fully awake immediately. Rómë always had envied her that trait.

The Lady of the Wood led them out of the room and down one of the smaller staircases until it intersected the main one. Silently, the three elves descended to the forest floor.

Arómenë's breathe caught in her throat as they were led to a clearing at the base of one of the larger mallorns. The glade was small, but very quiet, even for the early morning hour, with the only noise emanating from the small brook that emptied its water into a stone pool. It was there that her daernaneth approached and filled a silver carafe with fresh water.

Elrond's youngest daughter exchanged a sharp glance with her twin as their grandmother poured the water into her mirror. Now that it came to it, the twins were starting to become just a little bit afraid of what they would see.

Galadriel stepped back from the mirror and waited.

Arómenë took a deep breathe and stepped forward, only to be stopped by the outstretched hand of her twin. The two exchanged a silent conversation that was more a battle of wills than anything, before Rómë relented.

Instead she stood near her sister and watched as she beheld the mirror and saw her future. In moments Dúnë's face went from happiness to utter despair and then to a contented look. Rómë sighed in relief.

The elfling stepped back from the mirror and only then did her sister catch the tears that glistened on her cheeks. Galadriel motioned her over and lay a comforting hand on her shoulder while her eyes followed her youngest grandchild, urging her to behold her own future.

But Arómenë suddenly did not want to know. Whatever was coming for her sister would end in happiness at least, and she was deathly afraid that hers would not be the same. That she would not share the same fate as her twin.

But Galadriel was not going to let her go so easily. _Look, my child, and see what it is you are so afraid of. Neither you nor your sister shall suffer your uncle's fate._

That put her mind at rest, if only a little. But enough at least that she stepped up to the mirror to see….

_Blackness at first, and then a welcoming light and she saw her childhood, short though it was, stretched out before her. Images of her and Dúnë playing together; of bedtime stories with their parents and picnics in the summer up by the High Falls; her brothers out hunting; and Arwen, walking the woods of Lórien with their grandmother. And then the scene changed, and she saw her brothers riding with the Dúnedain and her parents walking among the gardens of Imladris, alone. She saw Glorfindel at sword practice and Erestor working on his endless accounts. But they were happy, all of them, and she did not fear. Blackness again, and the sound of weeping. An image of Arwen crying in Celeborn's arms, a letter clutched tightly in her hand. A flash of her brothers in the midst of an orc attack, swords flashing. Her father sitting forlornly in his study starring at a portrait of her mother, tears glistening on his cheeks. And then the sadness lifted and she saw her sister and a golden haired elf of surpassing beauty walking together; she saw a young mortal boy, only a few summers old running towards her and saw herself picking the child up in her arms, laughing all the while; a brown haired elven lord, regal and mighty, kissing her hand and welcoming her while they stood on the shores of a green land. A white light again, a baby's wail, and a flood of happiness…_

And she was back in Lórien once more, hands clutching the sides of the mirror for support, a look of utter shock on her face.

She raised her eyes to meet her sister's and saw the fear there, and the curiosity too. She shook her head slightly, indicating that now was not the time to ask questions.

"So you have seen what is to come. Or perhaps it is only what _may_ come, for not even the mirror shows all things. Whatever comes to pass, do not fear it now, it is still many years away. Go and talk, for I know you are eager, and then rest. Seek me out if you wish to speak." And with that Galadriel disappeared out of the glade.

The twins stood and stared at each other for a moment longer, willing the shock to wear off enough that they could form coherent words. But in truth they did not need too, for they had both seen something similar to the other, at least of the past and present, and they had each seen a glance of the other's future.

Dúnë reached out for her sister's hand and Arómenë let her catch it and lead her out of the clearing and back to their room.

Arwen found them there, sleeping once more, a few hours later and she wondered at the tears that shone on their faces even in sleep. She too had once looked in her grandmother's mirror, and had seen only a pure happiness for herself that would bring untold grief to all others around her. Could her sisters have seen something similar? Or had they seen different fates, as her father and uncle had suffered? She prayed not. But neither would she question them, for if what they had seen came to pass, she would know soon enough anyways.

She closed the door and left them to their rest.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

On their return home their parents met them at the entrance to the valley, their father having known of their arrival as they crossed the Bruinen. For Elrond knew all that went on in his valley, and of everyone who came and went, and he was awaiting their arrival.

Glorfindel was in front and so it was that as he reached his Lord he bowed slightly in greeting and announced that he had returned the twins 'safe and whole and if Elrond ever asked him to do such a thing again he was going back to Aman.'

Elrond had only laughed loudly at that and thanked his old friend before greeting his youngest daughters.

The twins watched their guardian ride off towards the house, repeating a long string of quite colorful swear words under his breath. If Elrond heard, he pretended not to notice.

Their mother enveloped then in a huge hug and immediately demanded to know how their trip had been and what they thought of their grandparents. A question which provoked a lively string of running commentary that lasted through dinner and late into the evening.

The elflings were finally escorted to bed by their parents who waited until they were under the covers before bidding them goodnight. The sound of Celebrían's clear laughter ringing down the hall was the last sound the two heard before falling asleep.


	8. Promises and Permission

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings. I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books. Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man). Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

Glorfindel took two steps into the room and immediately started retreating. No, no, and no. He would not be caught up in this again.

Unfortunately his presence did not go unnoticed by the twin elves who he had thought were locked in a staring match and unaware of anything happening around them.

One of them turned to smile sweetly at him, and for a moment he couldn't tell which twin it was. And that scared him more than any band of attacking orcs ever had.

Glorfindel shook himself sharply and then looked blankly at the two of them. "Did you need something?" He asked, hoping to Eru they did not.

"Uncle Glor," the one who had turned to him spoke and he realized it was actually Arómenë, although he had been willing to guess her sister Andúnë. The smile unnerved him, and Rómë had never looked at him like that before.

"Yes?" he answered, trying to keep the uneasiness out of his voice and failing.

"We have been discussing things, and we've come to the realization that besides that one time that father let us accompany Arwen to Lórien, we have not been out of Imladris. Now, Glor, you're Ada's closest friend, and we'd be ever so appreciative if you would talk to him about letting us go with the twins when they leave next week." Arómenë smiled sweetly again…and Sweet Eru save him, batted her eyelashes.

"I…I…" Glorfindel trailed off into silence. Their father would say no, of that he was very much sure. And yet, how could he say no to these two? The former balrog slayer sighed and resigned himself to his fate.

"Alright…but I will make no promises. You know as well as I do what he is going to say, so I'm not exactly certain what you think I'm going to accomplish talking to him. Except getting into hot water for even _suggesting_ such a thing. How do I let you talk me into these things? You are exactly like your sister. And your mother." He paused a moment. "And your daernaneth."

The twins smiled at him again; identical smiles in identically angelic faces.

Glorfindel sighed again. "Very well, I'm going. But do not blame this on me if things do not go the way you are hoping."

"Thank you uncle!" Their call followed him out the door.

Closing it behind him, Glorfindel leaned back against it, mentally preparing himself to beg his lord to allow his two youngest daughters to go off into the wild with their wayward and trouble seeking brothers. 

How did he always get himself into these messes? Glorfindel wondered for the thousandth time whether he should return to Aman.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

Elrond stared at his oldest friend in open shock. Surely Glorfindel wasn't naive enough to think he would actually let his two baby girls go on a hunting trip…was he?

But suddenly he realized what had happened. Shaking his head and trying not to smile he looked at Glorfindel. "They got to you, didn't they? Just like Arwen did when they wanted to go to Lórien. Glorfindel, really, they're only fifty-five, they are not that hard to stand up to. If you keep spoiling them so they will soon be able to get away with anything they wish." 

_Too late_, Glorfindel thought. He looked guiltily at his lord. "And I suppose it's easy for you to look at two adorable and innocent children and say no? You are their father; I am their uncle. They never try to get their way with you because they know they can get me or another to do it for them. They are far too much like their sister in that respect. I did not promise them anything this time. Merely that I would talk with you. But I simply refuse to be the one who tells them no." He adopted a firm and stoic look that clearly stated he would not be persuaded for anything.

"Very well, I supposed it is not your job to deliver the news. I will tell them. But please, Glor, try to maintain that strong willpower of yours next time?" Elrond looked hopefully at the elf.

Glorfindel sighed, nodded and retreated out of the room.

Elrond stared after him a moment, lost in thought. _This is the third time in as many years that they have tried this. I wonder why they continue to ask. Perhaps they think I will cave into their wish if they are persistent enough? Nay, they know the rules, and would not dare to think I would suddenly forsake them. They don't honestly do this just to entertain themselves with torturing Glorfindel...do they?_

Still lost in thought the Lord of Imladris left his study and headed to the family sitting room. No doubt his daughters would be waiting there for Glorfindel to return with and answer. They would get a little surprise this time, and perhaps it would be enough to get them off this constant nagging to leave the valley. Although he sincerely doubted it.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

Elrond stood on the front steps of his home in the cool dawn air, observing the four travelers preparing to depart. For the thousandth time he wondered how this had come about. 

He'd gone to his daughters' room that fateful day a week ago to tell them, yet again, that they could not go with their brothers hunting. Somehow they had left the room an hour later to go and inform said brothers that they would be accompanying them. Elrond still wasn't very sure what exactly had happened. But he'd been on the receiving end of any number of smug looks from Glorfindel for the past week.

Elrond sighed and felt Celebrían hook her arm through his and lean gently against him. "Everything will be alright meleth nin, you needn't worry. I am sure the twins, both sets of them, are more than able to keep out of trouble for a week." 

Her husband looked down at her with an unconvinced air. "These are _our_ children we are talking about, are we not? Might I remind you how many times our sons have returned from a simple hunting trip unable to walk or even conscious? Nay, they are more than capable of getting into any and all trouble in a matter of days."

Celebrían threw him a sharp look. "You are making me feel so much better herven. Really, if you continue this then I shall be the one worrying and not you." Elrond had the grace to look ashamed. 

"We will only be gone a week Ada, we promise." The oath caused Elrond to turn back to his children and observe the serious look that graced his eldest's face.

He returned it with an equally serious and also unbelieving one. "Elladan, the last time you said that you took Arwen hunting. You returned two days late, in the middle of a thunderstorm, and Arwen had a broken leg. Please, do not make a promise you will not keep."

Elladan's expression was very similar to the one his father had worn a moment before. "Yes Adar. But we will try very hard to return unscathed this time. I do promise that."

"I suppose I shall have to live with that. Very well, you had best be on your way. Safe journey, and may the Valar watch over you and return you to us soon."

Celebrían hugged her youngest daughters and whispered in their ears to watch out for their brothers and make sure they didn't try to get into any trouble. "Have a good trip," she said to all of them and with one final goodbye to the household they mounted their horses and were off.

Glorfindel came to stand beside the Lord and Lady of Imladris. "I will bet you a week of account work at least one comes back injured," he addressed Elrond. 

The lord tried to look shocked that his friend would bet on his children's health, but with a motion of his hand that he hid from his wife, he acknowledged the wager. Hopefully he would win this time, as he was still trying to finish the work that had resulted from his loss of their last wager. _Why is it that foresight seems to come in no use when betting on things? _

Glorfindel picked up the thought and grinned widely. _Because, mellon nin, that would give you an unfair advantage._

"Good day," he bowed briefly to the two elves and disappeared in the direction of the stables.

"Come herven, there is still work to be done, and hopefully we shall have some quiet in which to do so." Celebrían led her husband back into the house.

Secretly she gave a small sigh of thankfulness. It was the first time since her youngest twins had been born that none of her children had been at home. And it was time she was going to put to good use.


	9. Lost

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            They had been traveling for three days north-west of Rivendell, and had long since left the mountains behind them.  They were currently crossing the area of Rhudaur, and were very near to the Hoarwell River.  The hunting hadn't been the greatest so far, and besides the deer they had seen the previous afternoon, they had caught no sign of anything since then.

            "Elladan," his youngest sister started and he mentally cringed.  No doubt she was about to ask the same thing she had been asking every hour for the last two days.  "Would it no be better to set up a permanent camp of sorts and hunt from there?"

            He sat stunned on his horse for a moment before the ability to speak came back to him.  "Where did you come up with this idea?"

            She smiled at him.  "We are obviously not catching anything simply wandering around in the wilderness.  At least if we had a camp set up we could split up and take different paths.  We would be far more likely to find something.  And then we have a spot to return to."

            Elrohir was nodding sagely to his left.  He tried to refrain from glaring at his brother.  "I suppose it is as good an idea as anything.  Where do you propose we strike camp?"

            Arómenë looked around her closely and after a few more minutes of riding she pointed to what appeared to be a clearing ahead.  Indeed it was; a grassy patch in the middle of the forest that was right on the dirt Ranger's path they had been following most of the morning.  It was the perfect spot to camp, and by the looks of it someone had obviously thought of it before them.  There was a distinctive fire pit to one side of the open space.

            "Very well, you can help your sister set up the tents.  Elrohir and I will get a fire going: it is nearly time for a meal anyways."

            The girls eagerly jumped to obey as Elrohir set about collecting firewood.  Straying only a few feet out of the clearing into the woods, he came across a small clear stream flowing between the trees.  It did appear to be a perfect spot to camp.  He turned his scrutiny to the trees and was satisfied to see they were ideal for climbing, or hiding.

            By the time the tents were up and a simple meal prepared it was waning towards mid afternoon and Elladan decided it best to forego anymore hunting until the next day.   The girls thought this a wonderful idea and quickly declared that they were going off to explore the area.

            Elrohir, who was only really half listening simply nodded and warned them to be careful.  No doubt if Elladan had not been off into the woods gathering more firewood, he would have said something more, but he was not.  The oldest son of Elrond was fiercely protective of his siblings.

            It was a good hour later before Elladan returned with firewood, having taken the time to scout the area for dangers.  The first thing he noticed was the girls' absence.

            "Elrohir, where are our sisters?"

            Elrohir looked up at him from his spot on the ground sharpening his sword.  "They have gone for a walk; honestly 'Dan, you spend so much time worrying over those two!  They have not gone far, so do not panic."

            Elladan obvious thought panicking was the perfect thing to do in the present situation.  "You let them go off on their own!?  What were you thinking!?  These woods are dangerous, and they can't defend themselves!"  He looked about ready to continue his litany of complaints, but Elrohir cut him off.

            "They are not elflings anymore brother, and lest you forget, they have been trained by Glorfindel and you and I.  And I believe Ada has been giving them lessons when Naneth is not looking.  They are quite capable of looking after themselves for a few hours.  And I highly doubt, despite your protestations on the matter, that these woods are all that dangerous."

            Elladan glared dangerously at his brother.  "And will you use that as an excuse to father when we return with two injured sisters?"

            Elrohir did not deem to answer him, and instead went back to his sharpening.  "You may go traipsing through the woods after them, brother, but I will not come with you.  I would rather not have them angry with me for the rest of the trip because I treated them like babes."

            "Fine," the eldest sighed.  "I will go and look for them myself." And with that he disappeared into the trees, leaving Elrohir shaking his head behind him. 

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            "Andúnë, do you think perhaps we should return to camp?" Rómë looked sideways at her sister.  No answer was spoken, and she fell silent.  

            They had been walking for nearly an hour now and, despite what they had promised Elrohir they had spent that time walking nearly straight away from camp, towards the mountains.  Rómë knew they were entering territory that would probably not be considered safe by the twins.  

            "Dúnë, I really think we should go back.  It is already late in the day; if we turn back now we shall return in time for the evening meal.  And Elladan is probably already looking for us. You know how angry he gets when we do anything he perceives dangerous."

            For a moment she again received no answer, but finally her twin stopped beside a large rock and sat down.  "Ai, I know we should go back.  But I do not wish to.  We spend so much time following what Elladan says.  We are safe enough here; there is nothing to worry about."

            The youngest nodded in agreement, but it was only halfhearted. 

            The sudden ruckus as a bird took off from its perch on the nearest tree, caused the twins to jump in shock and set their hearts to racing.  

            "I think…I think maybe we should go back," the eldest agreed.  Rómë nodded quickly, not trusting her voice at that moment.

            Together they headed back west towards the camp, the sun shinning in their eyes and turning their blond hair to a shimmering gold.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            At that same moment Elladan was just beginning to follow his sisters' faint tracks ever eastward.  The direction of their path alone had instantly set him to worrying, and each step away from camp and towards the mountains cause his concern to increase.  Whatever had possessed them to wander off so far?

            He had not walked more than a score of minutes when the forest thinned out to open land and, as if to make everything worse, the trail ended.  

            For one moment Elladan lost all control and turned to kick the nearest tree, but he stopped himself just in time before he broke his toes on the hard trunk.  Sighing in realization to climbed up the tree instead to get a better view of the plain.  They would have to find their way back on their own, he admitted; there was no way he could track them across short grass and wild fields.  Not since they were Elven at least.  But that didn't ease his fears at all.  He glanced up at the sun, already low in the sky.  It would set within the hour and he did not have faith that they would be able to find their way once it was dark.  

            Elladan comforted himself with imagining the lecture he would be able to impart to them once they were all back at the camp.  And he let himself indulge in thinking about the look on his father's face when he told them about the girls' little side-adventure.  Adar would not be happy.  Of course, he'd probably find some way to blame Elladan for this; after all, the twins were young and innocent and couldn't possibly be responsible for doing anything dangerous.  Elladan groaned and thumped his head against the tree trunk.  He couldn't possibly tell Elrond about this.  Which meant the twins were going to get away with doing something irresponsible yet again.

            _Why me? Was his last thought before he focused on scanning the open land for any sign of his sisters. _


	10. and Found

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

The minutes ticked by and his worry turned into panic.  As the sun vanished behind the tree tops, casting the forest around him into shadows, he caught a movement on the other side of the open land, at the edge of the next forest.

            He sat up in instant alertness and peered through the dim light.  Yes, there they were at last.  Elladan sighed in relief, his panic giving way to annoyance.  He would not let them off lightly for this.

            Had he been anyone other than Elrond's son, the prospect of a thorough lecture would probably have been enough to satisfy him, but he wasn't.  They had caused him worry and panic and if he had been mortal, most likely a few grey hairs as well.  Elladan allowed himself to indulge in new and interesting ways of sister-torture and revenge.  He was certain they wouldn't be so quick to wander off on their own again once he was through with them.

            When the twins finally made the tree line he dropped from his perch in the tree so unexpectantly that Rómë shrieked in surprise and jumped backwards.  Elladan fought the loosing battle of whipping the smirk off of his face and glared disapprovingly at his younger sisters.

            Twin looks of innocence stared back at him.  

            "I am not falling for that again," he warned.  "You know not to wander off on your own, much less this far from camp.  I have told you a thousand times, but it seems as if that has not been enough.  I expect both of you to behave the rest of this trip, and if I catch either of you sneaking off again we will be returning home immediately.  I do not take well to you placing yourselves in danger simply to spite those in charge of your safety.  You asked to accompany Elrohir and I on this trip because you promised you were old enough to listen to us and to behave yourselves.  Nothing you have just done shows me that you are old enough for this trip."  He paused to take another breath, but the twins did not let him continue.

            "We're sorry Elladan; we honestly did not mean to wander off so far.  It will not happen again," Rómë said, looking properly chastised.  Elladan pretended to ignore the angry glare that her sister shot her and turned back towards the camp.

            "It is already sunset and camp it still a good twenty minutes away.  Let us get on our way; I have no doubt Elrohir is already worried enough as it is."

            Arómenë bowed her head in apology and followed after her brother silently, dragging her sister along with her.

            They had not gone more than a few feet when suddenly Elladan disappeared in front of them with a cry that followed a second later by a scream of pain.

            "Elladan!" Dúnë cried and rushed forward, barely catching her balance on the edge of the pit that had seemingly appeared in the forest floor.  "Elladan, are you alright?" she called down.

            "Yes," came a strangled cry.  "Besides that, I think my leg is broken.  This pit is rather deep."

            Dúnë bit her lip and stared wide-eyed at her sister.  "Can you climb out on your own?" she asked.  She could barely make out her brother at the bottom, trying to pull himself up to stand on his good leg.  

            He seemed to consider it for a moment before deciding in the negative.  "No," he shook his head, "one of you will have to return to camp and fetch Elrohir and some rope.  The sides are much too steep for me to climb with a broken leg."

            He could hear them conversing quietly to each other for a moment.  "I will go," Dúnë called down to him and disappeared out of his sight.

            "Would you like me to come down there?" his youngest sister offered, clearly not wanting to do anything of the sort.

            "No, I need you to stay up there so that Elrohir may see you.  Watch for a torch through the trees; he will bring light."  And with that he gave up on his standing attempt and collapsed cautiously back to the dirt floor.  "Who in Ilúvatar's name dug a pit out in the middle of nowhere?" he whispered to himself.

            The minutes passed exceedingly slowly for Rómë, who thinking of her brother down in a cold, dark pit, in pain was growing increasingly anxious.  They could not have been that far from camp, could they?

            The rapid appearance of a yellow light in the distance caught her eye and she breathed a sigh of relief.  "I see Elrohir, toro; they will be here shortly."  Elladan simply nodded; or at least she thought he did: it was hard to tell in the gloom of dusk.

            "Over here 'Ro!" she called as the figures discerned themselves amongst the trees.

            "Dan, how you get yourself into these messes I will never know…" the younger twin started as he gazed down at his trapped brother.  Did you think you can pull yourself up if I throw the rope down?"

            "Yes, but hurry up: I do not enjoy being stuck in dark holes."

            Elrohir smiled and flung one end of the rope down into the pit.  A moment later the rope strained under Elladan's weight as he pulled himself up and over the edge of the cavity.  Elrohir assisted him the rest of the way, being as careful as he could of his brother's right leg.

            A visual examination proved to be enough for Elrohir to determine the leg was indeed broken, and that Elladan would be far more comfortable if they took him back to camp and shoved a good many pain-killing herbs down his throat before his leg was set.  Elrohir grimaced as he let himself imagine their father's face when they returned home.  Which would be in about three days if they set off tomorrow morning.  Elrohir sighed at the thought of having to cut the hunting trip short, and that this time it had not been the girls that had been injured. 

            "Come brother," Elrohir said, and carefully lifted their father's eldest in his arms, "back to camp with you."

            Elladan gritted his teeth through the sudden pain caused by being lifted.  Why did something like this always have to happen?

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            Elrond shook his head and bit back the obvious question that threatened to escape his lips.  There was little point in asking anymore, and in the end it did not really matter how the injuries had been sustained, only that they had.

            "I am glad to see you home, my children.  Go and rest, I will see to your brother."  The girls must have been more exhausted then he had thought for they left for their rooms without a seconds protest.  Elrohir, however, looked about ready to object, but quickly decided against it when he caught the stern glare from his father.

            Elladan waited until his three younger siblings had left hearing range before he spoke in a soft whisper to his father who carried him towards his rooms.  "Do not be angry Adar; this was my fault alone.  It was dark and I was not paying proper attention to where I was walking.  But then, it was an awfully silly place to dig a hole if you ask me."

            Elrond fought the smirk that rose to his face.  "I have no doubt your injuries are completely the fault of the hole and not your own, ion nin.  You will have to tell me what has happened in the exceedingly short time you have been gone.  I must admit, this is a first: I have never had you return from a trip early before.  We shall have to remember this day in future."

            _No doubt, Elladan thought,__ so you can bring it up at the most inopportune moment and embarrass me yet again.  He sighed and resigned himself to the fact.  Perhaps he would pass on the next few hunting expeditions for a while.  A nice long rest at home was just what he needed._


	11. Laughter and Visitors

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            All five of Elrond's children were sitting quietly in the family sitting room, amusing themselves.  Elladan and Elrohir were involved in a chess game of deadly concentration near the fire and had all but tuned out everything going on around them.  The twins were braiding each other's hair in intricate patterns with verbal help from Arwen who was quietly reading.  The rain was pouring down outside, turning the valley so dark as to be almost night.

            Arwen looked up from her book to admire the herringbone Rómë was weaving in her sister's golden tresses.  She sighed gently and went back to her book.  But she wasn't in the mood for reading.  In fact, she was quite bored.  Which for the children of Imladris' lord, usually resulted in disaster.

            The Evenstar let her gaze wander over to her brothers and suddenly a grin graced her delicate features.  Slowly, so as not to alert the two of her intentions she drew a pillow from behind her, and with careful aim, smacked Elladan in the face.

            The look that appeared on his face would have been quite funny had it not been followed by the return of the pillow.  But Arwen was ready for it and she ducked out of the way, catching it has it sailed towards her and tossing it back; aimed at Elrohir this time.  But the surprise was over, and everyone in the room was on edge.  

            The screaming, throwing, tickling, and wrestling that ensued brought Elrond from his study fearing some disaster had befallen.   The sight that greeted his entrance caused him to freeze in place, while an amused look crossed his face.

            Elladan was holding Dúnë tightly as Arwen tickled her mercilessly, while Elrohir and Rómë were bating at each other with silk pillows.  Unfortunately for Elrond, none of them were too involved in what they were doing to miss his entrance.

            Elrohir quickly abandoned his youngest sister as his target, and with a fierce battle cry rushed his father.  In seconds Elrond was upon the floor, all five elves on top of him laughing in glee.  Elrond could not help but find it amusing, for the times all five were home and in good spirits were few and far between as they got older.

            When Celebrían walked into the room ten minutes later it was to find the six of them still upon the floor, tired from their game.  Her husband was sitting up against one of the lounges, Arwen lying in his lap and Dúnë against one shoulder.  Rómë was collapsed between her two brothers in exhaustion.

            Imladris' lady wished she had an artist to capture the moment for her.  This was her heart's desire; what she had longed for.  She did not believe anything like this would likely ever happen again.  Smiling she stepped forward and took Dúnë into her arms as she took her place by Elrond, remembering the time they had all fallen asleep in the bed together only a few days after her daughters had been born.  That was a moment she wished she could have captured as well.

~~~~OOOOO~~~

            Two weeks later chaos descended upon the house of Elrond.  It was a chaos that was not seen nor heard by most of the valley's inhabitants, and indeed there was very little to hear.  But for the lord of the house, the sudden and completely unexpected arrival of Mirkwood's Prince, turned the entire safety of the valley and the life of its ruling family upside-down.

            Elrond sighed and rested his head on his right hand.  Of all the time Legolas could have picked to visit, it had to be right before the Eve of Midsummer and the largest festival held in the valley throughout the year.  And come to think of it, Elrond wondered, how exactly had he gotten away from his royal duties for said festival in his homeland?  He would have to ask the Prince later, when the was not in a wrestling match with Elladan in the middle of the Lord's private garden.

            The presence of his youngest daughters brought him from his musings and he turned to speak with them, but realized that their attention was not only not on him, but they hardly seemed aware of his presence at all.  

            The giggle that escaped Rómë's lips caused Elrond to frown.  They were staring out into the garden, to the two elves wrestling, and Elrond hardly thought they would be giggling at their brother.  Which only left….  _Oh Sweet Eru, they cannot really be taken with Legolas, can they?  They are not that old!  He suddenly tried to remember exactly how many summers they had seen.  A quick mental calculation revealed to him that they were only fifty-five years of age.  Much, much too young to be gawking at the Prince in such a way.  Why, Arwen had not looked at any of the male elves of Rivendell in such a way until long after she had passed her first century!  Or had she?  Elrond was floored by the sudden realization that he maybe didn't know everything about his daughter's lives that he wanted to know.  But no, Arwen was over four and a half centuries and she had shown no interest so far in marriage or even betrothal.  Perhaps he should talk with her; no doubt the twins would talk with their older sister about such things.  Unfortunately, his eldest daughter had left for Loríen only a week ago to visit her grandparents.  Elrond knew from experience she would not be back for a least a decade.  He sighed; giving up on the thought.___

_            They must just be admiring his fine fighting skills_, Elrond concluded.  That must be it.  But the look in Andúnë's eyes reminded him of the way Celebrían had looked at him when first they met.

            _Well, I supposed it would not be so bad if one of them were to marry the Prince.  He is a very skilled warrior for such a young age, and he is kind.  A better match I could not make for my daughters.  But I hardly think Thranduil would approve of such a union!  Perhaps I should speak with Legolas later.  Concluding that was the best thing to do, he made his way back to his study to finish the work he had been doing when the yells from the garden had interrupted his concentration._

            Rómë spared a glance at her father as he left the room, deep in thought.  She wondered if he had noticed the way her twin was staring at Legolas.  She had to concede; the Prince was indeed quite handsome, and quite skilled with a bow from what her brothers told her.  And she would be more than happy to welcome him as a brother-in-law at some future date.  But she was not quite certain if Legolas would at all return her sister's unexpected affections.

            _And who will that leave me with?  There are no other princes about I may marry, and I should not want to marry one of the old Elf-Lords!  Imagine marrying Glorfindel?  Nay, I will have to find someone younger than that.  I should seek Arwen when she returns from Loríen; perhaps she will know of any suitable elves dwelling in the Golden Wood.  Satisfied with her decision she returned to watching her sister stare in open-mouthed awe, quite unbecoming of an Elven lady, at the brotherly fight going on below them._


	12. Tedious Formalities

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            "Rómë, would you please put the book down and come and dress.  Ada warned us not to be late for the feast tonight, and you know that he will be angry if we are.  For once could you at least _attempt_ to act similar to a normal elf?"

            The youngest daughter of Elrond looked up lazily at her sister from her perch upon the window seat.  "Normal?" she asked dryly.  "As opposed to what…abnormal?"  And without waiting for an answer she went back to her book.

            Dúnë took a step forward and tilted her head to the left to read the spine of the book.  _Rare Herbs..." and their Properties!?!"  Her sister exclaimed incredulously as she read.  "You're going to miss the banquet because you're doing lesson work?!  __How are we even related?"  She stared at her mirror image in shock._

            Arómenë didn't favour her with an answer.

            "Rómë?" the sound of her mother's voice drew her away from her study as her sister's had not.  "Yes Naneth?"

            "Why are you not ready, iell nin? Dinner will begin soon and your father wishes both of you to attend him in the main hall before the meal."

            "Yes Ammë; I will be ready right away."  And she promptly disappeared into the next room, leaving the book abandoned on the bench.

            "Wait for your sister, iell, and help her with her hair.  I expect both of you to present yourselves before the dinner bell."  And she disappeared out the door in a swish of pale green silk gown and silver tresses.

            When Rómë entered the room a few moments later, gowned in her father's colours of silver and blue, similar to what her sister wore, she looked strangely at her twin.  Dúnë still stood in the centre of the room, staring in awe at the closed door through which her mother had left.  "Seler, are you quite all right?" she asked, concerned.  

            Her twin glared angrily at her and departed through the door with a quick "do your hair yourself."

            She huffed in a very un-lady-like way and set about doing just that.  Simple, but elegant she decided was the best.   She braided the top half into two herringbones and set her mithril tiara on top. Her sisters and brothers had identical circlets that, unlike their father, they only wore on special occasions.  Such as a Solstice banquet that listed Prince Legolas and Círdan of the Havens among the guests. 

            _There, she thought__, straightening the band upon her forehead; __perfect.  She left to the room to find her sister before they really were late for dinner._

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            "I _hate formal banquets," Elladan groused quietly; eyeing his father's progress towards them._

            His youngest sister smiled sweetly at him, but there was a hint of empathy in the look as well.  "Why he feels we must be shown off like this is something I have yet to comprehend.  At least Dúnë is enjoying herself," she muttered.   

            Her sister was in fact over by the railing the looked out over Imladris, head bent as close as she dared to Prince Legolas' and giggling at whatever he was saying.  Elladan shook his head in mock horror.  

            "How can she possibly enjoy this?"

            Rómë smirked, "My guess is it has everything to do with the Prince's attention and nothing to do with the banquet. 

            "I have seen you the same way, toro," Elrohir reminded his twin.  Elladan glared at him but refrained from commenting as Elrond came within hearing distance.

            "Arómenë, how nice of you to finally join us."  She leveled a charming smile at him in response, appearing to show she was thoroughly enjoying herself and terribly sorry she was late at the same time. 

            "Forgive me, Adar, it is only I found this week's reading so enjoyable I all but lost track of the hour." Another sweet smile and Elladan snorted softly in disbelief.

            The expression of disappointment on Elrond's face immediately turned to one of glowing pride.  "I am glad to see you enjoying the work, iell nin.  Truly you will be a wonderful healer when you are older."  This statement, in conjunction with a look of disapproval towards his sons, clearly showed the Lord's disenchantment that the rest of his children weren't as adept at the same skill.   Rómë smiled sweetly again and Elladan nearly kicked her under his father's eye.  

            It amazed him at how adept the twin elflings had become at wrapping their father around their little fingers.  It was a skill Elladan and his brother had never quite mastered completely, mostly because it was always quite obvious that something was their fault.  Arwen had never needed the skill, really, for she had never been one to do wrong, but her innocent smile would get her anything she wanted from those around her; Glorfindel included.  But these two, from the very beginning had had a knack at weaseling their way out of almost any trouble they got into.  Which, because there were two of them, and because they were related to Elrond's twin sons and had learned a great deal from them, was quite often indeed.  They had picked up quite early on that if they were going to get into trouble for something, they should always have a reason or way to blame it on their brothers.  Or Glorfindel, or Erestor, or any other number of inhabitants of the valley that were all but enamored with the girls and would most likely die for them at the least opportunity.

            This annoyed Elladan and his brother to no end, and most likely was a never ending source of dread for their father as well.  There was just no way for anyone to say no to these two.  

            Just then the bell for dinner rang; a clear, sweet tune that originated from the dinning hall, but echoed all around the valley.

            "Andúnë?" Elrond called to her and, with a last longing look at Legolas she joined the family.  Arwen was still in (Lórien), no doubt celebrating with a glorious feast there, but she was often away in the Golden Wood and the family was used to her absence on such special days.

            Elrond took his wife's arm to lead the procession into the hall, and his children, in something resembling order, followed behind.  The rest of the valley's population and the few honored guests made their way in as well; Legolas keeping close behind Dúnë, and Círdan deeply engrossed in a conversation with Glorfindel.

            Elrond sat with Celebrían at the head off the centre table, Glorfindel at his right hand and Círdan at his left.  The twins sat to the opposite sides of the two elf-lords, mostly so they could stare at each in boredom across the table and hope their father was too engrossed in his conversation with his two old friends to notice.

            The girls took up a place half way down the table, under a blue and silver canopy that matched their gowns perhaps a little too well.  The rest of the guests were free to sit wherever they so choose to allow easy conversation.  Legolas, invoking his right as a Royal guest sat down beside Dúnë and looked daggers at any male elf that seemed put-out by this.  Erestor, being the typical considerate person he never was, sat down beside Rómë to prevent any eligible elves from getting her attention.

            She smiled gratefully at him and ignored him the rest of the meal.  He might have saved her from making pointless flirting with one of the visiting elves of Círdan's party, but he was not interesting to talk to at anytime, unless you were Elrond and the topic was accounts.  Which, Rómë had on good authority, was tedious even to her father.

            As if to affirm her thoughts, a young elf whom she didn't recognize, which confirmed him as a visiting guests, smiled at her from across the table and she groaned towards her mother.  Celebrían smiled encouragingly and turned back to the conversation her husband was involved in.  Rómë knew she was however, only pretending to be interested for Elrond's sake.

            _Ai, why are we forced to sit through this year after year? Rómë thought as she turned to the food put in front of her.  She would eat the meal, make polite talk with those across the table and then escape as soon as possible.   A good book, and that private balcony that looked out from the Hall of Fire, and at least she could swear to her father she was there: and studying no less.  She smiled secretly at herself for another wonderful display of Ada's tithen iell.  _

Her twin laughed lightly at the Prince, and Rómë frowning, focused on her soup.  


	13. Unexpected Arrivals

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            Isil had long ago risen by the time the last of the desert dishes were cleared from the table and Elrond rose to lead the way to the Hall of Fire.  Three of his four children in attendance were considering the repercussions of disappearing altogether and facing the penalty the next day. After all, forgiveness was so much easier to get than permission.

            But just as Elladan and Elrohir were about to make a break for it, one of the Imladris guard, Glorfindel's second they noted, appeared from the front courtyard and drew their father aside.  A moment of fierce whispers followed as the twins attempted to edge closer to overheard.  Elrond suddenly looked up and caught Elladan's eye, and with a quick motion bid them both follow as he disappeared back into the main house.  Elrohir exchanged a look with his brother, tapped his sister on the shoulder, and the three of them followed.  

            Celebrían continued into the Hall with the rest of the company, swiftly taking up her husband's conversation with Círdan and assuring anyone who asked that everything was well. 

            Dúnë did not notice until later that her siblings had disappeared with her father.

            "Ada, what has happened?" Elladan caught his father up as they passed into the house and out of view of the dinner guests.

            "The guards found a young man and his wife on this side of the Bruinen; within our borders.  The man is badly injured and the woman with child."  As he turned slightly to look at Elladan as he addressed him, he realized one of his children was missing.  "Where is Dúnë?"

            Arómenë snickered softly and bit her lip to keep herself from outright laughter.  "Prince Legolas," was all she said, but realization dawned in Elrond's eyes, followed by a clear look of disapproval.  He would most certainly be having a talk with his middle daughter when things had settled down.  Rómë smiled in delight to herself; a look matched perfectly by her brothers.  Talks with Elrond rarely were good, and even more rarely ended at all well.

            Elrond and his children breezed into the Healing Halls to find three of the guard standing watch over the two mortals.  For mortal they were, and very obviously not of Dunedain blood.  Rómë checked herself at that, caught slightly off guard.  These people were certainly from the west then; perhaps one of the villages near Bree, or Bree itself.  But if so, they were a long way from their home for a culture that did not like to stray far from their hearths.  And even stranger was their presence here, for the lesser races of men both feared and shunned the elves and surely would not go seeking them for any reason.

            Elrond went immediately to the bed the archers had set the young man upon, dismissing said guards at the same time.  They seemed to hesitate only slightly, as if unsure of leaving their lord and his family alone with strange humans, but neither would they question Elrond's commands.

            The healer examined his patient, calling out quick instructions to his two sons who scrambled to collect what he needed.

            Rómë edged as close to the bed as she dared, at the same time trying to keep out of the way of her brothers.  A young man he was indeed, little more than a grown boy, she thought, but she had not seen many mortals in her life, and even fewer that were not of Dunedain blood.  For all she knew this boy was considered a man among his people.  Likely so, if the woman sitting on the bed near him was indeed his wife.  His very pregnant wife, she noted.

            Realizing she would be of little help to her father, and would only get in the way, she went instead to the young mother-to-be and sat down at the end of the cot, keeping her distance so as not to frighten the girl.

            "Welcome," she started in Westron, keeping her voice as soft and kind as she could.  "I am Arómenë.  May I ask your name, and the young man's?"

            The woman looked at her with something akin to terror, a look that multiplied as she caught the elf-lord giving her husband something to drink.  If she wasn't so scared, Rómë suspected she would have told them to stop.  But she could only sit there in shock as her husband was tended.  

Seeing as she wasn't about to answer until she had at least assured herself her husband was not being killed by the elves that tended him, Rómë turned her attention to the other bed as well.  From her viewpoint she could make out a good many of the injuries, not the least of which was a badly broken leg; the lower half so covered in blood she was sure it had been all but shattered.  Even her father might have difficulty saving it.  The man's torso was also bloodstained, thanks mostly to a deep gash across the stomach that Elladan was currently trying to stop the bleeding of.  They would be awhile, she knew; no doubt once the bleeding was stopped and the more simple wounds cared for they would move him into the surgery across the room: to save the leg or take it Rómë could not yet discern.  

            She sighed deeply.  No matter how much she wished to become a great healer like her father, and no matter how many times she helped to tend the simple injuries that occurred in Imladris, there were times such as this that the very thought of being responsible for saving someone's life scared her deeply.  It was something she knew she would have to either overcome or learn to live with, but neither prospect sounded promising whenever she thought about it.

            She looked to the young mother again.  "Lady, please, would you tell us your name and how you came to be here?  We will not harm you or your companion."  She held her hand out, but made no move to touch the woman.  

            Her words garnered her attention however, and the girl look at the offered hand in apprehension.  "My….Iselle.  My name is Iselle.  My husband, he is Darin.  Please, we did not mean to trespass.  We were attacked yestereve, on the road.  We were only trying to find help.  My husband, he was hurt trying to protect me.  They took our horse, and I did…I did not know where to go.  I knew not the Fair Folk lived in these part…." She trailed off looking helplessly at Rómë, who was trying to not smile at the "Fair Folk" comment.

            "Everything will be well Iselle.  We do not mind that you are here.  My father's home is a haven for all races, not just the Eldar.   I am sorry to hear of what has befallen you.  The roads are not safe anywhere, it would seem.  A tragedy after all we have fought and died for.  You will be safe here, I promise you that.  And my father will do all he can to heal your husband.  But tell me, how many months along are you?  Is the child due soon?"

            Iselle looked a bit shocked at the sudden change in topic.  "I…I am nearly due my lady.  I am not certain, but, soon."

            Rómë smiled gently.  "May I feel?" she reached her hand forward again, but this time Iselle made no move to stop her and she laid a gentle hand upon the large swell of the woman's stomach.  The child kicked under the foreign touch, but quickly quieted as Rómë began to speak soothing words in a language the woman did not understand.  Going slowly so as not to surprise the woman, Elrond's daughter reached out with her senses to feel the child.  A boy, healthy and hale, and quite active by the feel of it.  

Rómë smiled at Iselle.  "The babe is doing fine.  It will not be many days now, if I am any judge.  But once my father is finished with your husband he will wish to examine you in more depth.  You need not fear anything, I will stay with you if you wish it.  My father is counted the most skilled among the elves in the art of healing.  You are both in good hands."  She smiled encouragingly again.  "Do you wish to know the gender of the babe?"

For a moment she thought she had not been heard, but then the woman's shocked eyes met hers and she nodded mutely.  "A boy.  You're going to have a son."

The shocked look became one of understanding, and then a small smile began to blossom on her face.  A moment later she was grinning in happiness and let out a disbelieving laugh.  

"I've wanted to know for nine months, but I could only guess, and now…how do you know?"

Rómë laughed with her.  "It is a elven gift if you will.  But those trained specifically in the art of healing are more sensitive to such things.  Are you pleased?"

Iselle nodded instantly.  "Oh yes, we were hoping it was, Darin and I.  Wait, what's happened?  Where are you taking him?"

The twins had suddenly stood and moved across the room to the surgery.  Elrond had lifted the young man in his arms and followed.

"No," Rómë said, and reached out to grab the woman's arm to prevent her from rising.  "They are taking Darin into surgery, to fix his leg." _I hope, she added silently.  "We will only be in the way.  You must stay here."_

Iselle gave her a lost and helpless look but sat back against the pillows, one hand going to her swollen abdomen.  "Will he be alright?  I did not know what to do, except try to stop the bleeding.  I did not even do that well, did I?"  She sighed in resignation.  

The younger twin squeezed her hand. "When did you last eat Iselle?  Or sleep?"

Iselle seemed to consider this.  "It was before we were robed.  A day perhaps.  Longer since I have slept."

"Come with me." She rose and, still holding the woman's hand, led her from the Hall.  "It is the Solstice feast tonight, so everyone is in the Hall of Fire.  The kitchen will be busy, but we will be able to find you something to eat.  Do you want anything specifically?  I understand mortal woman often have cravings for certain foods."

Iselle regarded her with disbelief.  "You do not also have such cravings?  I never thought…I mean, how different are your pregnancies from…ours?"

Rómë was momentarily at a loss.  "Well, mortal woman carry a child for only nine months; for elven women it is a year.  We seldom suffer from any sicknesses or general discomfort during that time.  Elven women do not begin to show until the seventh month.  Also, the husband and wife cannot be separated during the entire year.  It is considered a tradition.  The labor is generally short, only a few hours and there are seldom complications during it.  It seems of all the elves only my mother has had any great difficulty during labor.  Adar believes it is because of his Edain blood.  My brothers," at this she motioned back towards the Healing Halls, "were born three weeks early, and Elrohir did not wish to emerge from the comfort of his mother's womb.  My eldest sister, Arwen, her birth was perfectly normal, but my father remembers in horror when my sister and I were born.  Twins are rare indeed among the elves, but female twins have never been born in our entire history.  My mother had difficulty during the time she carried us, and she was in labor most of the night before we were born.  She swore she would never let my father near her again if this was to be the outcome."  She was becoming wrapped in the telling of her history and could not seem to stop herself.  "There is only two other elven women that have ever had five or more children.  One of them was Eärwen who is my mother's grandmother.  Her youngest is Galadriel, she who is ruler of the Golden Wood.  Men and dwarves call her a witch and a sorceress, but she is neither.  Of all the elves left in Middle-earth she is the oldest and the greatest.  My grandmother remembers the light of the Two Trees in Valinor.  My people say that in her eyes alone is the last beauty of Laurelin and Telperion, and the Silmarils that were once so treasured of the Eldar.  Ah, here we are."

The kitchens were indeed busy, but Arómenë left Iselle in a quiet corner outside and scrounged through the numerous leftovers for something simple and filling for the expecting mother.  Returning to Iselle with a tray of different dishes, one of which she hoped would appeal, she beckoned her to follow.  "Let us retire to my room.  You can eat there, and try to get some sleep.  My father will find us when he is finished."

She simply nodded at that and walked beside her host through the maze of hallways.

Sometime later a soft knock sounded upon the door, and Rómë rose to admit her father.

            "How is he Ada?  Were you able to save the leg?"  She glanced furtively towards the bed where Iselle had fallen asleep only an hour or so before.

            "Master Darin is in one of the recovery rooms.  The surgery went well.  One of the lower leg bones was severely broken, but it was not beyond repair.  He will be long in recovering, but I believe he shall heal completely.  They will have to remain here through the winter; Darin will not be able to walk until the fall.  I would not let them go into the wild with winter coming on and a babe in arms.  How is she?" 

            His daughter looked relieved at the good news.  "She is well.  She had not eaten or slept in more than a day, but I made certain she ate a good meal.  She has been asleep but an hour yet and I would leave her until she wakes.  The child seems well enough, but I explained to her you would probably wish to examine her.  She says she is mere days away from birth and I would agree.  I fear the shock of the last few days and the travel through the wilderness may have an difficult effect on the birth, but as I said, the child seems active and healthy.  A boy." 

            Elrond smiled proudly at her assessment.  "We shall let her sleep until morning.  Darin shall be awake and aware by that time.  Are you very tired iell nin?  I must return to the party, but if you wish you may remain here and watch over our young mother."

            It was a good excuse to not attend and they both knew it.  "I will stay Ada.  I do not want her to wake to an empty room.  Where are the twins?"

            "Elladan has gone to inform your mother of what has happened and Elrohir sits watch over Darin.  I will bid you goodnight.  If she should go into labor, find me immediately.  Goodnight Rómë."

            "Goodnight Ada," she kissed him softly on the cheek and shut the door quietly behind him.  

            The bed she sometimes shared with her sister, and it was quiet large enough to accommodate two people.  She lay down near the edge, having given Iselle the centre and most of the pillows in order to make her comfortable.  Before she gave in to elvish dreams she lay a gentle hand on the woman's swollen belly and felt the child kick softly within.  Reassured of the health of both mother and child she settled herself against the remaining pillow and slept.


	14. Suprises

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings. I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books. Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man). Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

The summer sun streamed through the window, although the hour was still early. Rómë breathed a deep sigh from her place on the balcony. Imladris was quiet, more so than usual due mostly to the length of the celebrations last night. The valley still slept. 

But Rómë herself was restless, although she could not exactly explain why. Iselle still slept in the bed, and there was no indication that anything was wrong with her or the child. Rómë knew she would not be completely at ease until her father examined the woman, but that did not seem to be enough to cause her current unrest.

She sighed again and retired from her viewpoint. Iselle would sleep for a time, she hoped; long enough for her to check on Darin's condition and break her fast.

That decided she threw a robe over her sleeping gown, for proprieties sake more than anything. She left the room silently and retraced her steps back to the kitchens. 

The staff was already up and offered her fresh baked sweet buns and summer peaches. Smiling her thanks she made her way slowly up to the Healing Halls, eating as she walked.

Elladan sat at Darin's side, firmly on the path of elven dreams. She nudged him gently and waved a sweet smelling bun under his noise.

The touch and smell roused him and he made a quick grab for the treat. "Uh, uh," Rómë warned and consumed the last of her morning meal in two bites. "You can walk down to the kitchens and get your own, brother."

Her eldest sibling frowned at her but made no move to follow her advice. He turned his attention to checking on the wounded man.

"How is he?" she asked.

"Alive, which is truly the most important thing. His breathing is normal, and heartbeat is even. He seems as well as can be. No fever; as good a sign as anything."

Rómë was nodding in agreement as the door was pushed open. 

"Good morning Adar," Elladan and Rómë chorused. "Good morning Dúnë," they continued as she entered behind their father. 

Rómë smiled widely. "And how was your night seler? Get much sleep at all?" Elrond shot her a warning glare as Elladan snickered.

"_I_ slept perfectly well, thank you very much for your concern Rómë. But honestly, you could have told me what was happening; I would have come." The aggrieved look she shot her sister was lost on no one: she would have come, but she would have complained the entire night about being taken from Legolas' side.

Darin suddenly stirred from sleep, most likely caused by Dúnë's less than whispered voice. She firmly ignored the three glares shot in her direction.

"How is— ?" Elrohir started as he appeared at the door, but Darin's confused voice cut him off.

"Where am I? Where is Iselle; is my wife well?" The alarm was evident in his voice and Elrond reached out a comforting hand to prevent him from rising and calm him at the same time.

"You are in Rivendell, and elven refuge in the Misty Mountains. I am Elrond and these are my children. Your wife is well; she rests in a nearby room. You need not worry for her safety." He nodded towards Rómë and she disappeared from the room to see if Iselle was yet awake.

"How are you feeling this morn, Darin? You were quite badly injured when my guards found you last night. Are you in any pain?"

The man seemed to be recovering from the shock of awakening in a strange room full of even stranger elves, but his voice was weary and uncertain when he spoke. "It is not so bad, my lord. I feel much improved from yesterday. I am sorry to intrude upon your house, lord; we did not know where we were, nor that there were cities in these mountains."

"Once they were many, and many peoples as well, but now it is only Rivendell that remains. My home is a haven for all races, men included. You need not fear. Ah, here is your wife. Have you slept well lady?"

Rómë guided a newly awake Iselle into the room and let her sit upon Darin's bed. "Oh Iselle, I was so worried when I woke and you were not here. How do you feel? Is the child well?"

Iselle smiled. "Not nearly as worried as I have been about you. I feel fine, the sleep has done me well. And your son is healthy and soon to be born." She glanced at Rómë.

Darin sighed in visible relief, before her words sunk in. "A son? It is a boy?" Iselle nodded happily. "How wonderful! How do you know?"

"Lady Rómë informed me last night while your wounds were being tended."

"Pardon the interruption," Elrond started, "but I would wish to examine you Mistress Iselle and both of you should eat."

Rómë held and arm towards her and beckoned her to follow her and Elrond into the next room. With one last nervous glance at her husband she did so.

"I feel I should thank you," Darin addressed the remaining three elves, "but I am not sure how."

Elladan smiled. "No thanks are needed. We are only glad you are recovering well. I will go to the kitchens and bring you breakfast." Turning he left the room, closing the door behind him from prying eyes.

"You need not stay seler," Elrohir started. "I am certain Legolas is feeling your lack of company. Tell him good morn." 

"Thank you so much for your kindness_, brother_, but I think I shall stay if it is all the same to you. Since I was so unfortunately denied knowledge of this last night."

"Only for your happiness, I assure you. You were having such a wonderful time we did not wish to deprive either of you of the company. And you like parties so much more than any of us."

Darin was looking between them with something akin to relief. No doubt it was comforting to discover elven children argued just as much amongst themselves as mortal children did.

"If you continue to tease me about this 'Ro, I swear we shall never speak again. Imagine what Legolas would think, hearing this?"

Elrohir smirked. "I'd imagine he would think it quite amusing. Oh, good morning Glorfindel."

The golden haired seneschal had appeared quietly at the door. "Is everything well?"

"Quite. Father is examining the young mother, and Darin is doing quite well. Did you enjoy the party last night, Glor?" A radiant innocent smile accompanied the last remark.

"Oh certainly tithen min, very much so. Not nearly as much as your sister seemed to, but…." The look of rage that crossed Dúnë's face only made Glorfindel smile wider. 

So angry was she, she could not find the words to speak, and instead stomped from the room in a very un-elven-like manner. Laughter followed in her wake.

"She will make you pay for that, Glor." Elrohir snickered.

"Oh, I have no doubt about that. But I think of it more of a repayance for certain things she owes me. She clearly stated last time that there were no limits to the game. I'm simply taking her at her word."

Elrohir's smile grew infinitely larger. "Just do not let Adar catch you at it. He will not find it at all amusing, I deem."

Glorfindel sighed. "Elrohir, you will learn that there are very few things your father finds amusing when they are at the expense of others. A pity, truly; he has lacked a sense of humor for many years now, if indeed he ever had one." Blue eyes glistened in mirth.

When Elrond emerged from the next room a few moments later, Elrohir was still sitting in the bed chair, doubled over in laughter; Darin was looking thoroughly confused and Glorfindel had disappeared.

Elrond did not bother asking. And Elladan arriving with a tray of food saved him from wondering what had happened.

Rómë took her leave in the commotion that followed, promising Iselle she would be back to see her after she was through with her meal. Elrond made similar excuses and left as well.

Elladan gave a queer look at his brother, one that openly stated 'you _are_ insane' and concentrated on serving up breakfast. 

"What is it today?" Elladan wondered. "Has the festivities caused the entire house to loose all semblance of normalcy?"

"If you think this house is usually normal, toro, you are too far gone to help. No doubt the amount of wine, care of Círdan I might add, might have something to do with everyone's general state this morning, but I doubt it is the reason for the past four yéni. That you can only blame on the inhabitants themselves. Adar keeps commenting that that is strange itself, for that was about the time we were born. But of course he is talking nonsense," Elrohir reasoned.

Darin, with a look that clearly stated he thought himself insane for interceding, said: "Your father seems very kind. Not at all as I expected an elf-lord to be. None of this is what I expected." He glanced around the large, airy, room. 

"That is the general consensus of all who visit who are not Eldar. It is a bit intimidating, or so I am told. But if Rivendell seems so, I can only guess what Lórien must be like. Perhaps that is why daernaneth does not let any but those of the Eldar race pass her borders. She's trying to save them the shock." Grey eyes met grey eyes in a look of mingled sympathy. The twins had nearly suffered from shock themselves, their first visit to their grandmother's realm.

"How old are you?" The timid female voice startled all three males, the twins especially having all but forgotten Iselle's presence.

"Very, very young. Just under six hundred years, by your count. Elladan and I are the eldest of Elrond's children. Rómë and her twin Dúnë are barely fifty years."

"Fifty-five, I would thank you to remember, brother," Rómë put in, appearing at the door once again. "But we are still barely past being elflings, to our everlasting impatience. Or Dúnë's at least," she grinned.

"You say that is young; what then do you consider old?" Iselle was finally letting her nervousness and hesitancy go, in favor of curiosity it seemed.

The three elves smiled knowingly. "Our father, Elrond, is forty-two hundred. He is considered one of the wise, and there are very few of them left, still, on this side of the sea. The Lady Galadriel is nearer ten thousand, however."

Two mouths dropped firmly to the ground upon this news, delivered as if a hundred times a mortal lifespan was not huge. Rómë smiled.

"There is much men do not know of us, except for those that still keep the old ties to the elves, for once we lived together in understanding. Those times now are long gone; since before my brothers were born. Men live now in fear of us, or at the best in awe. It is a great shame, for once we learned much from each other, and the Firstborn found a purpose in life, to teach those of the after-races. There are few now who still come to us for teaching, or for help, too in fear of our magic and sorcery are they. It will be many years, even in the count of the elves, before ever our people join together for a common purpose." She got no further, because Elladan elbowed her hard in the ribs, and she had to stop talking in order to not cry out in pain. 

His explanation, when it came, was whispered in elvish. "Do not go telling them about what you see. Father has explained this to you before, why do you not listen? They will be long dead before ever the first beginnings of such an alliance form again. Do not tell mortals of what the future holds; if they were meant to know, Eru would have given them foresight as well."

Rómë stood silently, still rubbing the ache in her side, but she said no more. Iselle and Darin took the message and did not ask anymore questions while they ate.

"Iselle, are you feeling tired at all? You may rest after the meal, if you wish. If not, I would be only too glad to show you around the valley," Rómë smiled.

"I am feeling very rested. It has been many months since I have slept as well as I did this past night. A bed I am certain, makes all of the difference." Elladan nodded sagely in agreement. Too many times had he slept on the cold, hard, sharp ground while hunting. "I wish to see some of this city, if only so as to not become lost."

"I hardly think you need fear that. It is not that large, and you may wander where you will. And when you are well, Master Darin, I shall give you the grand tour as well."

"I hardly think that will matter for some time. And even then I shall simply follow Iselle around wherever she goes." All five inhabitants of the room laughed.

"I am finished now, I should think. The babe seems want to eat at all hours, but then not much at a time." She messaged the swollen bulge of her belly. "I certainly do not hope he is like this after he is born. I shall never rest at all!"

Elladan's snickers could no doubt be heard by anyone passing by the room. His sister pointedly chose to ignore him and instead, escort Iselle from the room.

"We shall take our leave lords, and leave you to your business. I'm sure there are many manly things you wish to discuss." 

Her brothers' un-elven-like spluttering followed the two females down the hall.

"Do you always tease them so?" Iselle questioned. 

"Oh, usually it is much worse. My siblings and I have an understanding. Anything is fair game. And anyone. I've lost count of the number of times visiting dignitaries have been on the receiving end of one of my brothers' jokes. But more often then not, they keep their games confined to the extended family. Myself and my sisters, our parents, our grandparents, my father's council, Prince Legolas and his family, the Rangers….and every now and then, we play a joke on them. It's exhausting to plan one though, without their or father's knowledge. And they usually end in disaster, but Elladan and Elrohir always come off worse, and that is all that matters. Do you have siblings at all, Iselle?"

The woman nodded. "I have an elder brother. He is married and has children of his own. They live with my parents, south of Bree."

The two walked in silence for a few moments; Rómë expertly navigating the corridors and people. 

"Iselle, what made you leave home?

The woman looked stricken, and the she-elf immediately regretting saying anything.

"I…we…I'm afraid."

Rómë stopped and found a place on the nearest bench. "Why? You have nothing to be frightened of here. What happened?"

"Darin and I…we…my father forbid us to marry, but we love each other so much…. We did it without his knowledge, and for a time everything was well, but then I discovered I was with child and…after I could no longer hide it, my father…he banished me. Darin's father had warned him not to pursue me, to just forget what he felt and he was angered that Darin had brought such a thing upon his house. We had no where to go. We thought, perhaps, we would make for the south, to the old kingdom. But we did not realize how far it was. We were looking for a place to stay until the child was born when we were attacked. I…I am so sorry to have burdened your family with this. We should never had left, but we were both so afraid of what would happen, and we wanted nothing more than to be together…." She broke down in the quiet sobs and Rómë took her into her arms and rocked her gently, whispering in words the woman did not understand.

"You are safe here," Rómë assured her, in the common tongue. "Darin will not be up for many weeks, and even then father will not allow you to leave. You shall stay the winter here, in Rivendell. In the spring will we see what is to be done. A new born babe cannot travel in such conditions. You will all be safe here," she repeated again.

"Thank you," Iselle chocked out, still rocking gently in the elf's arms.

Rómë decided that perhaps it was not the best day for a tour and led Iselle back to her own room to rest for a few hours. Sleep was the best thing for the distraught mother. After she had seen Iselle settled, she retired to her father's study, to share with him what she had learned.


	15. Conversations

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings. I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books. Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man). Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

Legolas Thranduilion departed for Mirkwood the next day; ending his shortest visit ever to the Valley. The twins went with him, much to the relief of a great portion of the valley, Elrond included. They would not be back until the fall, if not the next spring, and he planned to fully enjoy the peace and quiet of his home until such a time as they did return. He could handle his twin daughters alone. Although, from the miserable look that hung on Dúnë's face for the rest of the day, he doubted she would be of any great company for awhile. 

But Rómë was only too eager to monopolize her father's time and knowledge. Elrond thought it a lucky event indeed, that Ilúvatar had dropped a pregnant mortal on their doorstep. What better way for his daughter to gain first-hand knowledge of childbirth? Even if it ensured his first grandchildren would not be hers. 

Rómë had taken to spending as many hours as Iselle was able to, walking the grounds of the city. It was an exercise Elrond's youngest daughter had always enjoyed, from the time she had first been able to walk any great distance on her own and for the very pregnant mother, it was a time to relax as well.

"I think I have finally discovered the reason my father has so many benches along the garden paths," Rómë stated. It had been nearly three full days since the two mortals had arrived in the valley, and the summer sun was presenting a good opportunity to bask in its warm rays on a garden couch.

"Certainly it was not for my use," Iselle smiled. "But I am thankful nonetheless. It is becoming so tiring to walk very far at all. I shall be most thankful to give birth; I do not know how much longer I can stand to be this large!" 

"I know not how you have withstood it so far. I do not think I shall ever have children. Poor Ada; he shall have to wait until Arwen marries, as I think she shall be the only one to have a family. The twins will never marry, and Dúnë has sworn many oaths in my hearing that she shall never, for all eternity, have a child. She would not know what to do with one," Rómë finished; the slight twist of her mouth showing Iselle she was merrily teasing.

"Is that common?" Iselle queried. She had been full of question about Elven life and Rómë was only too pleased to answer them. "For elves to not have any children at all?"

"Frequently, yes. And those that do often do not have more than one. We are not a large race, but we are immortal. There is little need for children to continue our race. Because of that, elves love children above all else; and elflings are treasured gifts from the Valar. But now…" she trailed off looking wistful. "There have been no children born in Imladris since Dúnë and I. None at the Grey Havens either, whose folk are dwindling with each passing year. As for Lórien and the Greenwood, there are very few young elves there either. Even now we are a failing race in Middle-earth, and although we mourn for that, still we rejoice in the knowledge that Valinor awaits us one day. There we are a vast people who have lived at their height for thousands of years. And will continue to do so for thousands more. Especially when the elves of Arda Marred sail West in the years to come."

Iselle look saddened at this, but whether it was because the elves were leaving to a more beautiful place that mortals could not follow, or whether it was because they seemed a failing race, Rómë could not tell. "Do not grieve for us, Iselle. Our time has come and gone, as yours is still approaching. This was fated since the beginning of Arda and we are content with that. Although our final sailing will mean grief for some, who's loved ones will never leave here; still it will mean rejoicing for most. Almost all the elves that dwell here have family in Valinor or in Mandos' Halls and they long to see them."

"And you as well?"

"And my family as well. My grandparents; my father's parents dwell there and my father's foster father walks the Halls of Mandos even now. There are many others besides. My father has kin ties with almost all of the great families and kindreds and many sailed west before I was born, or never journeyed here at all. But that time is long off even now. The elves still have a part to play in the history of Middle-earth and we shall not leave until that part has been played. My father especially; for he is tied here through his brother and descendents and will not leave until it is safe for men to rule their own lands. It was a promise made, and a promise that will be kept. Elrond's children cannot sail until he does and we would not wish to besides. There is still much to learn here, and many lands left still that I have not seen. I am still a child, after all." She smiled sweetly, and for the first time since Iselle had arrived the woman saw in her eyes the child the elf still was.

"The sun sets and it is nearly dinner hour. Will you come inside with me?" Rómë was already rising and extending a hand to help the young mother up. They followed the winding gardens paths back towards the lights of the Last Homely House as the sun dipped below the trees and Eärendil rose to sail across the night sky; a beacon to show all those left in Middle-earth that Valinor had not yet forgotten them, and awaited their return to its green shores.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

"Dúnë?! Where are you seler?" Rómë stepped onto the deserted archery range, a look of untold frustration on her face. Dúnë had said she would be on the field practicing all morning, so where was she? "Dúnë!" she called again.

Still no answer. She had been searching for nearly a half hour, since her father had bid her find and send her sister to his study. She was perfectly aware it was to have a talk about none other than the Prince. And although Elrond would be quite aware it might take her some time to find her sister, he would no doubt be growing somewhat impatient it had taken this long. "Dúnë!?! Wherever you are, Ada wishes to see you. Do not keep him waiting seler!"

A rustle from the bushes to her left alerted her to her sister's sudden presence. 

"Where have you been?" Rómë declared, her impatience showing through her voice.

"Practicing archery, just as I told you. Where have _you_ been?" she fired back.

"In the study, practicing this week's lesson as you should have been. But Ada sent me to find you as he wishes your presence."

The annoyed and haughty look on her sister's face abruptly vanished, to be replaced by one of growing terror. "He wishes to see me? Why?"

"I believe the topic of conversation is the Prince. Although, perhaps I am mistaken and he merrily wishes you for a lesson, since you have missed three this week already."

The look of horror was growing into one of terrified realization. Rómë let the smug look of one who is trying in vain to withhold the words 'I told you so', show on her face. "I have been looking for you for over half an hour. Ada will not be pleased you have kept him waiting."

Andúnë had vanished along the path towards the house before Rómë had even reached the last word of her sentence. Smiling widely, she bent to retrieve her sister's forgotten bow and arrows, and set off down the field towards the targets. It had been over a week since she had been able to find a few hours in which to practice when the range was not in use. Besides, despite all the extra time she sat about in the library learning of how to heal injuries and treat the sick, it did not mean she cared nothing for the art of _causing _injuries, so long as they were against the enemy. And she would never allow her sister to surpass her in archery, although she had long ago admitted defeat when it came to the art of the sword. 

"Adar? May I enter?" Dúnë hesitated at the doorway to her father's study, although the door itself, as always, was wide open.

"Come in, Dúnë. I've been awaiting you for nearly an hour."

His daughter had the grace to look ashamed. "Forgive me Ada, but Rómë could not find me easily. And I felt I should change before coming to you." Her father simply nodded; quite well aware she had probably made it hard for her sister to find her on purpose. He motioned towards the window seat overlooking the valley and joined her there.

"Dúnë, do you know the reason why I called you here today?" He was not looking at her; gazing out the window across the valley instead.

"You wished to speak with me about…Legolas," she ended in a defeated sigh.

"Yes, that is mostly the reason. However, at the same time, I do not think I need tell you that you are yet too young to enter any relationship with the Prince," he held up his hand to stop her protests. "Hear me out completely before you begin to argue, please. I have given it much though, and talked with your mother. You are aware that no betrothal may take place until you reach your first century. And no serious…relationship," he said, obviously having meant to say something else, "can take place between you until you _are_ betrothed. Do I make myself quite clear, iell?"

She nodded. "Yes Ada. I do understand that. But—"

He stopped her protest again. "I am not finished. Your mother and I have discussed it, in great depth, and we have decided. If Thranduil agrees to your union, we could wish no better match. There are few I would consider worthy of my daughters, and although I had at one time hoped that Legolas and Arwen might find love together, if you and the Prince had found it instead, I will give my blessing. A union such as this would be beneficial for both our realms. But not until you are of age. Until then, I would prefer you see as little of the Prince as possible, but you may write when you will. I will send a letter to Thranduil as soon as may be and see if he will approve of this as well. But if he should say no, tithen min, there is little I can do. I will not create enmity between our kingdoms over this. You understand?"

"Yes Adar. Thank you Adar," she beamed at him and hugged him tightly. "May I go Adar?" She was already standing up as she spoke.

"Dúnë?"

She paused. "Yes Ada?"

"You will attend your lessons with your sister from now on, do I make myself clear? You may practice archery and swordsmanship when you will, but not when you are supposed to be learning healing."

"Yes Ada. I will not miss anymore lessons. May I go?" At her father's nod she retreated quickly from the room, hopefully before he changed his mind about anything he had said.

Elrond smiled ruefully after his wayward daughter. Now, if only he could find a way to confine her to the valley for the next forty-five years.


	16. Births

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            "Adar!  Are you here?"  Andúnë shouted as she breezed through the library doors.  She had already found the study and the council chambers empty.  If her father was not here, she was going to have to seek help in finding him.  "Ada!" she cried louder, adopting the edge of panic that she had always used to get his attention when she was younger.

            "What has happened Dúnë?" her father's voice spoke from above her.  She glanced up to find him staring down at her from the balcony and sighed in relief.

            "Tis Iselle; she has gone into labor.  Rómë sent me to find you."  Her father breathed his own sigh of relief that nothing tragic had happened.

            "Dúnë, please go to the Halls and find Narwë; tell her to move Iselle into one of the recovery rooms, she will be more comfortable there.  And then I shall leave the choice to you of what you will do next.  If you wish to attend the birth, I am certain Iselle will not mind.  If not, I suggest you find her young man and do your best to calm him.  An expecting father is usually harder to handle then the mother."  The flash of pained sympathy that crossed his face went unnoticed by his young daughter.

            "I think I shall stay with Darin, Adar, if you will not be terribly disappointed.  Mayhap the making of pains will be my doing, and the healing of them my sister's, but I have no interest in childbirth."  She paused and then hastily added as Elrond's face fell, "unless it be that of my children's."

            "I shall not be disappointed; the healing arts are not for everyone.  Go and comfort Darin as much as you can.  I would prefer him kept out of earshot of Iselle until the babe is born."

            "Yes, Ada."  Dúnë hurried off to find Narwë, leaving her father, with an amused look in his eyes, to resume his previous focus.

            Elrond sighed.  Today would be a time of celebration, or so he hoped, but to him it was yet another reminder that time in the outside world was passing the elves by.  Imladris was becoming rather old and dull without the laughter of little elflings.

            Narwë and his youngest had done an admiral job of settling Iselle comfortably in the one of the small recovery rooms off the Healing Halls.  They had changed her into a loose nightgown to make the birth easier and Rómë was walking slowly beside the young mother, offering her support incase Iselle should need it.  All three looked up as he entered and acknowledge his presence before resuming their tasks.

            Elrond drew the female healer into the corner to talk with her, but his focus remained on Iselle; monitoring her progress.  It was early yet, and her first pregnancy; it would be a long labor.  Elrond glanced outside to gage the time of day.  The sun was just setting below the tree-line; the bell would ring soon for the evening meal.

            The healer turned his attention back to the girl and whispered sideways to Narwë, "You may go to dinner if you wish.  I shall be awhile before we are needed here.  I will send someone for you when it is time."

            She nodded in accent and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

            "Iselle, would you mind lying down for a moment so that I might examine you?  I've not doubt the brief rest would be appreciated."

            She smiled her eager assent, and made short work of lying down upon the bed; sighing in contentment as the weight was lifted off of her feet.

            Rómë moved across the room and returned with a bowl of cool water and a cloth, and proceeded to wash the woman's face as her father examined her.  She was not paying much attention to her father as he did so, and so when Iselle gasped out in a fearful voice, asking if the child was alright, Rómë was caught slightly off guard.  She glanced up sharply to observe the healer's face, and sighed in relief.  "Do not worry Iselle, my father often frowns when he is concentrating on something.  He is simply focused on the child presently.  Ah, see?"  Elrond's eyes had suddenly come back into focus and he looked up and smiled at the two females.

            "Do not fret, lady, the child is healthy and eager to be born.  But it will still be some hours yet, I regret to inform you."  Iselle groaned in annoyance and Arómenë laughed; not being able to quite sympathize with the situation.

            "I suggest you get as much rest as you can before the worst of the pains start.  It will be a long night for all of us.  I shall have food sent in a little while; something light.  Please, eat as much as you are able; your body will need the strength come morning."  Elrond rose from the bed and nodding to the two, departed to seek his own dinner.

            Rómë put the wet cloth aside, "Is there anything you may need Iselle?  I will seek dinner myself, but I shall return as soon as I am finished.  My father may say that rest is the best thing for you, and I agree, but that does not mean you need to be alone.  He forgets, perhaps, how unnerving this must be for a new mother."

            Iselle grimaced slightly, but nodded.  "Yes.  No, there is nothing I need, I thank you.  Please go and eat.  You need not hurry back, but I will welcome your company."

            "Very well," the she-elf rose, "Try to rest until dinner arrives."

            The sky was just beginning to lighten with the coming dawn when a baby's wail echoed around the still valley.  Iselle sagged against Rómë in tired relief as Narwë took the squalling infant into the corner to make him presentable for his mother.

            Elrond smiled at the woman.  "How are you feeling Iselle?"

            She glared at him as if to say "how do you _think_ I am feeling" but did not utter the comment out loud.  "I have been better, my lord, much better.  But I have been told that is to be expected."  Then Narwë was beside her, handing her child to her and she forgot instantly both the pain and exhaustion.

            "He is beautiful, Iselle, truly," Rómë said.  "What will you call him?"

            The mortal stared down at the boy in awe.  "Darin and I talked about names, but suddenly none of them seem right.  But perhaps…perhaps he should have an elven name, so that we will never forget your kindness.  Only, I do not know any names in your tongue."

            Rómë laughed lightly and leaned down to observe the child.  "Hum, this might take some thought.  We choose names very carefully among our people.  I shall give it a great deal of thought; but for now "tithen min" shall have to do," she laughed again.

            Iselle looked confused.  "I have heard your brother say that before.  What does it mean?"

            "It is an endearment the elder elves often use for those still considered young," Elrond smiled sweetly at his daughter.  "It means 'little one' in the common tongue."

            "It sounds fitting.  He is little, isn't he?" Iselle cuddled her child to her tightly.


	17. Gifts and Departures

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings. I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books. Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man). Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

The months had passed swiftly; too swiftly for the elves of Imladris. The spring thaw had come and gone, and flowers were now blooming brilliantly even outside the borders of the valley. Iselle's little son was growing at an alarming rate to the elves, who were used to elven children. Darin was fully recovered, and the day was fast approaching that the three mortals would be taking their leave.

"Will you look at him!" Elladan exclaimed, his eyes focused on the child as they always seemed to be as of late. Elrond was becoming terribly amused by his children's awe of the boy. Maybe he _would_ have grandchild before Arda ended.

Rómë glanced at where her brother was looking, but saw nothing unusual. Elladan and Elrohir were beginning to worry her; anything the child did seemed to excite them. Even laughing: especially laughing. 

"I think your brothers shall miss the child more than us," Iselle laughed. She was knitting yet another shirt for the ever-growing babe. 

Rómë set her book aside and leaned forward to so that she could see over the railing to the three playing below. "Yes," she sighed. "I fear as much. They have never had to let someone go before, who they will not see again. I worry for them."

Iselle stared at her in shock. "They would not die of grief simply from affection for a mortal child, surely! Please, Rómë, tell me they would not."

Elrond's youngest smiled calmly at the woman and lay a comforting hand upon her arm. "Nay, they would not. But they will miss him all the same. They have never missed anyone before. But no, I assure you, they will not die of grief." Iselle visibly relaxed and resumed her knitting, glancing up every few moments to observe they play going on in the garden.

Silenced rained for a time, the air only broken by the laughter below.

"Iselle, it is nearing the time when you have said you will leave. Do you know when you will go?"

The mother looked sadly at her; "Soon, I think. Darin is becoming anxious to leave. He has decided we shall return west and find a town where our families are not known. We can live there in peace, and raise our son without fear of persecution. But I do not wish to leave here! Never have I seen anyplace so beautiful; I did not know such places existed. I want my son to grow up here; to know your kindness and peace. But Darin says that will not be, and I shall not go against his wishes. We will leave within the fortnight."

"Very well, I shall make certain everything is ready. And a name given to the babe, lest you think I had forgotten," the she-elf laughed.

Iselle shook her head, "I had thought no such thing!" She fell silent for a moment. "Rómë?"

Arómëne tore her gaze from her brothers to meet the woman's serious look; her laughter died away. "What is it Iselle?"

"I want to say something to you, but I have not yet found the words, and I do not think I shall. You have given us so much; each day you give us more. There is no way for us to thank you, I know this, but I would say this to you nonetheless: hannon le, mellon nin."

Rómë took the knitting from her and set it aside so she could take the young mother in her arms. "You are quite welcome mellon nin, and I thank you as well. You have given us more than you can imagine." She let Iselle go. "And your pronunciation was excellent."

The two stared at each other and began to laugh so loudly it drew the attention of those below. 

"It sounds as if we are missing something, toro," Elladan glanced at his brother.

"Nay, I think not. They are female, and therefore strange. They laugh for no reason."

"Ai, you are probably right. Come tithen min, let us go down to the river and leave the women to their talk," Elladan offered, and swung the child into his arms, shaking his head at his brother in bemusement.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

"Safe journey to you both;" Rómë hugged Iselle one last time. Darin was already mounted a few feet away, conversing with Elrond and the twins. "May you find the happiness you seek," she added.

"We have a chance now, at least. You have given us that."

The she-elf smiled secretly at her. "Nay, it was not us. It was this little one that has brought you so much joy. A gift from Ilúvatar. I think I have a name for him now; Annaelen, it means 'star's gift', for that is what he is. You're shinning star come to light your way."

Iselle started to cry softly. "Oh, Rómë, 'tis beautiful. Thank you. I swear he shall know of you all, and one day perhaps we shall be able to return." She hugged her once more before being assisted into the saddle. A waiting elf handed Annaelen up to her. "He will remember you," she promised once more. "And so shall we."

She followed Darin out of the courtyard, looking back the entire way.

"What did you name him?" her father asked once the party was out of sight. 

Rómë smiled at him. "Annaelen," she said and disappeared into the house. Elrond stayed as the last of the elves wandered back to their tasks. He stayed as the sun rose up above the trees and filled the valley with light and still he did not move. But as the guides he had sent to lead the mortal couple out of Imladris reached the bank of the Bruinen and bid the pair farewell, he set his mind towards the river, and stilled the spring rapids until their new friends had crossed.

Elrond turned back towards the house to find his youngest daughter leaning against the archway. "Thank you, Ada;" she looped her arm through his and rested her head upon his shoulder. "Do you think we shall ever see them again?"

"Perhaps; I should like to see the man Annaelen grows up to be." He led her through the hallways silently in the direction of his study. "I had forgotten what it is to have a young babe in arms near. And it was not that long ago you and your sister were that small. When did you grow up?" She laughed lightly at him.

"Ai, I do not know! I did not think we _had_ grown up. But it was pleasant to have a child here; although I do not think seler nin knew quite what to do with him," she laughed again. "Would you like another one, Ada? I am certain we can arrange for a new mortal child every few years, to keep you young."

"Are you implying I am old? Iell, how could you say such a thing?" He stepped away from her and adopted a not completely convincing look of hurt on his face.

"I speak only the truth, as always. Elves cannot tell falsehoods after all." She grew serious suddenly, "Would you shelter others? Dunedain kin perhaps? As you gave a home to Valandil."

Her father seemed to consider this and did not answer her immediately, but poured himself a glass of wine and sat down at his desk. "If the Heirs of Isildur were in need, I would harbour them here. As you said, they are kin. And a little one running these halls would not go amiss every once in awhile."

She studied him, seeming to hesitate on her next question. "Would you allow yourself to love them, knowing they were mortal?"

Elrond look stricken, but he mastered himself quickly; pushing aside the painful thoughts of his brother's choice. "Where little ones are concerned it is rarely a matter of allowance. They will have your love, wither you give it freely or no." He turned to his daughter and took her hand gently. "You need not fear for me, wilwarin; if circumstances were right, and a child was in need of such love, lacking for instance a parent, then yes, I would love them; even as my own child."

She smiled brightly, "Good, for I wish a tithen seler. Or toro, I am not particular." She moved away from his towards the door. "Excuse me, Ada, but I have a lesson to attend within the hour, and I have not yet broken my fast." She curtsied slightly and left him to his thoughts.

Elrond took his glass to the balcony and stood at the rail, looking out across the river. _Could_ he really allow himself to love another mortal, knowing he would loose them? And as for a young sibling for his daughter…did she want him to adopt a mortal? Elrond couldn't help but smile at the absurd thought. If any of the Heirs were ever in need of this valley, he would do what he could for them, and gladly; even permit one to be raised in his house. But to actually go to the point of adopting an Heir and raising him as his own son? Rómë could wish all she wanted, but he saw no reason to ever do such a thing. Although, to see how Dúnë would react to a little brother...

The Lord of Imladris smiled to himself and sipped his wine, as the spring sun climbed its way through the sky.


	18. Something Wicked

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

Author's Note:  I am aware the White Council was not formally formed until 2463 TA, however with the power of evil growing as early as 1000 TA, it seem logical that at least some of the Wise would have met much earlier than that to discuss what might be done; even if they did not form a larger council till later.

The reason neither of the twins appear in the second half of this chapter is because they are hiding in the bushes eavesdropping, ala Sam.  The fact that they overhear the entire thing will come out in later chapters.

_ROTK, Appendix B; The Tale of Years: In the year 1050 of the Third Age, a shadow fell over the __Greenwood__, and men began to call it Mirkwood.  About 50 years later, the Wise discovered an evil force had inhabited the ruins of Dol Guldur.  It was thought to be one of the Nazgûl. _

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            "What is happening?" Rómë whispered fiercely to her brother.  Elladan had his ear pressed to their father's study door.

            A party from Greenwood had ridden into Imladris that morning, in a great hurry, and everyone had been astonished to see Thranduil among them.  

            Of Legolas there had been no sign, and Dúnë had retreated to her beloved hideaway to bemoan her fate.  Her other four siblings had immediately done what they always did when important guests came to see their father: tried to find a place to eavesdrop.

            Whatever was happening in the study, the participants were not overly concerned with how loud they were being, which suited the listeners just fine.

            Except for what it seemed they were overhearing.

            "Well?  Tell Elladan!"

            He ignored her for another moment, before straightening from his crouched position on the floor.  "Shush," he caution before leading them down the hall.

            Once the door was firmly closed to Arwen's room, Elladan adopted a grave look.  "Oh no; it's not…it's not Legolas is it?" his youngest sister looked stricken.

            "Nay, tis worse, if such a thing is possible.  Thranduil has come to seek our father's council and to ask the Wise for their opinion.  Greenwood has become dark as of late; as if an evil spreads itself through the wood.  The Wood Elves do not know what is causing it, but there are great spiders; minions of Morgoth, now where there was once only trees and life.  Adar, he was not certain, but Thranduil demanded to hear his thoughts.  He thinks…" The elf paused, unsure if he should speak of such things.  

            "Please, Elladan, do not we deserve to know?  It will affect us as well."

            "Yes, of course.  Adar thinks perhaps, it is Sauron re-growing his power.  And that it is only a matter of time before the evil spreads further than the Greenwood."

            The reactions were exactly what he had expected; except the cry that echoed from the doorway.  Dúnë stood there, obviously having only caught the last part, with a horrified look on her face. 

            "Why did Legolas not come?" she gasped out.

            "I am not certain," Elladan started, "however I would think Thranduil would not want to leave the kingdom completely devoid of the royal family in his absence.  Do not fear for him seler; it is not quite that bad as of yet.  But evil is certainly growing, and it's origin is unknown."

            "And you, Elladan, are quite old enough to know eavesdropping is forbidden in house," came Glorfindel's disapproving voice from behind Dúnë.  

            "But, Glor, this affects us as well!  It affects all of us."

            "Yes it does, and therefore you know quite well your father would have told you all once he and Thranduil finished their council together; but you could not wait it seems."

            Elladan looked ashamed.  "I am sorry Glorfindel.  But you know how impatient we always are."

            Glorfindel adopted an exasperated and amused looked.  "Yes, I am well aware.  Valar know where you get it from.  You father was the image of patience at your age, and certainly your mother…well; I can only blame the Edain blood.  Men are notoriously impatient."

            "Are you insulting my ancestors Glorfindel?  I must say, I never expected such from you." Elrond's face bore a look of wary exhaustion and he looked older, if such a thing was possible for an elf.  "The children I am sure heard nothing that I would not of told them.  They have been doing it since they were of an age to talk; do you really except them to stop now?"

            Elladan grinned smugly at the seneschal.    The balrog slayer's sharp glance warned him to reconsider.

            Elrond addressed all of them.  "Thranduil will leave at first light; he cannot afford to linger here.  I will send messengers out immediately to Lórien and the Havens, and seek the advice of their rulers.  We must decide what is to be done, for we can ill afford to let such an evil spread.  Elladan, Elrohir; I would like you to go West.  I will have a letter drawn up for Círdan.  I would ask you return swiftly as soon as you receive a reply.  Glorfindel, would you bear a formal message to Galadriel in the Golden Wood?"

            "Of course hér nin," he bowed.  I will leave as soon as the message is ready.  First light tomorrow, if that is your wish."

            "First light shall do.  We must hope the mountain pass is open and safe at present.  Hannon le, mellon nin.  Children, I believe you have things you should be doing.  Dúnë," he stopped her as she left the room.  "Thranduil has asked to speak with you before he leaves.  He awaits you in my study."

            Rómë saw her twin pale and nod silently.  She winced inwardly, glad it was not she who sought the marriage of such a high born elf; and from the kingdom of Greenwood as well.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            Celeborn was frowning in contemplation as he glanced back and forth between his wife and son-in-law.  Elrond and the Lady of Lórien were in a heated conversation, or so the expressions of their faces seemed.  Celeborn was not certain, as they were speaking mind to mind, and Galadriel was not allowing him to eavesdrop.  He glanced across the circle to see Círdan deep in thought as well.  Gandalf and Saruman were speaking in quiet whispers, but Gandalf seem terribly worried by whatever the White Wizard was saying.

            The Lord of the Golden Wood sighed.  They had been here three days already, and were only now beginning to come to agreement over the intended issue.  The infestation of spiders and a spreading evil within the Greenwood seemed to have been just the beginning when it had first come to the attention of the Wise fifty years before.  Since then, the evil had spread at a rapid rate, and there was no doubt in anyone's mind now; the source was Dol Guldur in the southern reaches of the Greenwood.  

            The problem, thought Celeborn, was what was causing it, and how to stop it.  It was this they were currently debating.  Gandalf had offered the thought that one of the Nazgûl might now inhabit the ruins.  It would certainly explain what was happening to Thranduil's fair wood.

            However, if was also an evil that even the Wise were not certain they could destroy.  The Úlairi were after all tied to Sauron's power, a power that even now still existed in the world as long as the Ring existed.  And as far as the council could tell, the Ring must still lie somewhere on the bottom of the Anduin where Isildur had lost it.

            "Elrond and I believe Gandalf to be correct."  Galadriel's sudden statement nearly caused her husband to jump in his chair.  She smiled knowingly at him.  "We have discussed it in depth, and we believe this to be the most reasonable explanation for what has happened to Thranduil's realm.

            Círdan was nodding in wary agreement; although, Celeborn noticed, Saruman did not seem quite as pleased.  

            "Do you have another answer for us Saruman?" Galadriel has seen the same look.

            "I cannot say that I have, as yet.  However, I hardly think we should simply accept such a drastic conclusion.  If the Úlairi have grown so power, surely we would have know something sooner."

            "Not necessarily.  The Úlairi have always been secretive in their movements, even during the last Age.  It would be unwise of us to simply dismiss them in this.  If it is indeed one of the Nine who is even now spreading its evil across Middle-earth, then something must be done.  We cannot simply allow this to happen, or it shall be too late, as it was last time."  

Elrond was in lecture mode, Celeborn noted.   He had to admire his son-in-law for all but informing the Wizard he was wrong.  But Saruman had always preferred caution, even more than the Eldar.  But caution had nearly caused their destruction in the Second Age.  Úlairi or not, they could not afford to wait this time.

"An admiral thought, but there is nothing we can do.  Even the Wise do not how the power to destroy one of the Úlairi, for their power comes from Sauron, and he cannot be destroyed unless the Ring be found.  And I for one do not wish to search for it," Gandalf admitted.

"Gandalf speaks rightly," the Lady said, ignoring Elrond's look of warning.  "We can do nothing, except wait.  As we have always done.  Greenwood must be protected, but it will have to be a defensive protection rather than offensive."

"Then we are decided?" Elrond questioned the council.

Galadriel looked sharply at Celeborn until he nodded.  Círdan bowed his head in acceptance as did Gandalf.  Saruman seemed content on staring at nothing, but finally, he too inclined his head.

"I shall send a message to Thranduil immediately.  He will not be pleased I fear, but he will understand.  This council is ended."  He rose from his place to converse with the Lord of the Havens, but watched Saruman's retreating back with a frown.__


	19. This Way Comes

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings. I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books. Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man). Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

"Legolas!" The Prince of Mirkwood nearly lost his balance as his betrothed all but plowed into him in her excitement. 

Arómenë hid a smile behind a polite hand. She could not blame her sister for such a display of affection in the middle of the courtyard. She knew how hard Dúnë had taken Thranduil's decision all those years before when the Greenwood had first been threatened. Her sister had understood the King's reasons for wanting to keep Legolas at home, but that had not eased the pain she felt at their enforced parting. Three hundred years was too long even among the elves, and Rómë was gladdened her sister did not have to wait any longer.

Legolas was holding the she-elf tightly in his arms and planting soft kissed on her lips. Arómenë sighed in sadness at what she did not have.

A soft hand fell upon her shoulder and she turned to see her father beside her. "Never fear, Rómë, your time will come. And it will be all the greater for the wait."

"As you say Adar. You have more experiences in these matters than I. I only wish…." She sighed heavily.

"Iston, iell nin. Iston." He drew her back towards him and hugged her tightly while Legolas and Dúnë finished their greetings.

"Greetings, Prince Legolas. We are gladdened by your presence here; Imladris has been positively dull without you," Elrond's eyes told his humor as he welcomed his future son-in-law.

"I thank you Lord Elrond, for being so kind. However I know this family far too well for that to be the truth. You would be gladdened had I been permanently confined to the Wood." 

Elladan coughed in a vain attempt to cover a moment of laughter. "Ah, that is the friend I have missed; even if my father has not. _We_ welcome you, Legolas. And the valley has been rather dreary without your affinity for trouble. Why, Elladan and I haven't been in the Healing Halls for neigh on a century!"

The courtyard resounded with laughter, and one long suffering sigh from Elrond. Rómë caught his eyes for only a moment, but it was long enough for her to see a spark of something there; and sparks usually bred disaster for certain half-elves and their prince friends. The last three centuries might have been less interesting than was normal, but things were definitely looking up. 

"Come," Elrond was beckoning them inside. "We shall feast tonight, and tell tales of old in the Hall to hail the renewal of the friendship of Greenwood and Imladris!"

Rómë smiled as she watched her people disperse into the house and surrounding land. This was the way it should be; this peaceful celebration of life.

Even gifted with foresight as she was, the she-elf could not see the danger that was about to change everything she had ever known.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

The room was silent, even full though it was. A messenger had ridden into the valley only an hour beforehand; a Dúnedain messenger. 

The news had spread like wildfire throughout the house; and by the time Elrond had called his advisors and family to his study, everyone was certain Sauron himself must have been leading an army towards them.

"I fear I have sad tidings for all of you. Long we have known that evil was brewing once more in the free lands, but now it has taken shape."

The silence was so deafening Dúnë believed even a mortal might have heard a pin drop in the center of the room. She feared the look on her father's face, for it was one she had never seen before. He was _afraid_, she realized.

"You are all aware that of the Nine Nazgûl, there was one greater than the others. A being made of pure darkness, second only to Sauron himself during the Alliance. The Nine were bound to Sauron as Sauron was and is to the Ring. And so they survived as well, although there has been no rumor of them these long years. But that has ended." He paused to take a steadying breath, well aware that every elf in the room was hanging on his every word.

"King Arveleg is slain and Fornost and Tyrn Gorthad are under attack. The great watchtower along the West Road to the Havens is destroyed. The Witch-King of Angmar has invaded the kingdom of Arnor. It has begun."

Three chilling words that sent shivers down Andúnë's spine. Beside her she felt more than heard her sister's sharp intake of breath. Most everyone else was reacting in a similar way. And although the girls were not seasoned warriors like Glorfindel, and had not lived during the great fear of the Last Alliance; they did know the tales of old and understood as much as any could what such a thing meant.

"My children," their father's voice brought them back to the present. "Please, would you leave us? I wished you to hear such things from my own mouth and not as rumors from the kitchens, but we have much to discuss, and I would not have you present." It was not debatable, and they all knew it.

Dúnë and her sisters left easily enough, but Elladan and Elrohir were over a thousand years old and not nearly so easily accepting of their father's orders anymore.

Elrond's daughters waited in the hall for them; a short wait.

"Didn't convince him otherwise, toro? I was certain he would allow you to stay; after all, you are so very _old_ now."

But the jibe went unnoticed by either brother, besides a half-hearted glare sent in Dúnë's direction. They disappeared down the hall in quiet whispers.

"That was strange. I have never seen them so subdued before. And the look in Ada's eyes…did you see it?"

Arwen nodded silently. "Yes," Rómë said. "I saw. If Ada is afraid and the twins worried, this is graver even than I thought. The Witch-king is powerful; the most powerful enemy at present. The Dúnedain cannot fight such as him without help. But so long as Sauron still exists, even fighting him shall do no good. He cannot be destroyed. Adar is not afraid of the Nazgûl, or of their leader invading the north: he fears this is only the beginning of something far greater. He fears another war."

Elrond's youngest had been staring far off across the valley as she spoke, but suddenly she seemed to come back to herself, as if from a great distance and regarded her sisters warily. "Ai, tis some time since I have had a seeing, even so small as that. That in itself is not well. But I say what is true, nonetheless. As Ada did: 'This is only the beginning.'"


	20. Disaster Strikes

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings. I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books. Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man). Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOO~~~~~

In two centuries little had changed in the northern reaches of Middle-earth. The Nazgûl seemed unusually quiet after such a sudden and violent capture of Arnor. The Dúnedain had fled to the safest places they could find, and the years had passed; silent years of harsh life and bitter fear. Little of such things touched the fair valley of Imladris, though the knowledge of what passed was known to most; and they worried and feared of the future.

But elsewhere in the world, others were not so fortunate. Year after year, reports came up from the southern kingdom; each one worse than the last. The elves mourned for the seeming fall of the once noble land of Gondor, but Elrond suffered most as he watched in helplessness his brother's descendents fell into ruin.

But men have hidden strengths that even they do not know; and Gondor, though it suffered greatly, did not completely fall, despite attempts by its enemies. By the beginning of the seventeenth century it seemed to those on the outside that the kingdom might just survive. Until, suddenly and without warning, disaster struck.

The Lord of Rivendell was sitting very still in his study, although Arómenë was not certain what he was looking at, for his gaze seem focused on something and yet she was certain he was not staring so intently at the trees.

"Adar," she whispered cautiously. "Adar, Erestor wishes to speak with you, but you weren't answering the door. What has happened?" For she was certain something disastrous must have occurred.

Her father gave her a startled look. "Rómë, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. You were saying?"

"What it is Ada? What troubles you so?"

His eyes unfocused again for a moment, before he seemed to physically pull himself away from some memory or other. He held out to her a letter she only now realized he had been holding.

"Grave news I fear; even more so after all that has happened. They ask for help, but there is none I can give."

She read quickly, her fear growing with each written word. It was written in Common, which would have been strange had the letter not come from Gondor; the Steward and not the King, she noted. 

Plague; the Royal family dead; the White Tree withered; the sickness spreading north…

"Adar," she started, but did not continue; there was nothing she could say.

"There is no help for Gondor, and the Dúnedain shall be warned to stay away. It is the people west of here that will suffer; the men of Eriador and the Periannath. But I know not of this sickness, nor how to stop it. I know you would council me to do what I could, that perhaps in helping we might find a cure, but Glorfindel will council otherwise. He will advise me to close the valley to all visitors until this has passed. Which then shall I do? Such a decision I do not feel it is my right to make."

"I have no council for you Adar nin, for I am young yet, and not of the Wise. Whatever choice you make will be right one, I know this." His daughter paused, but Elrond had returned to his thoughts. "When Gil-galad died you gave up the power he had wished would pass to you. You said you did not want it, and neither was it yours to have. But still you are a leader; _our_ leader, and such a choice as this must be left up to you, and to daernaneth and daeradar. You three have been left as rulers of what is left of the Elven kingdoms. Do you think that you would be here, if we did not trust you to make the right choices; not only for our people, but all others as well?"

Elrond stared at her: struck speechless. She bowed slightly and left him alone.

_Barely a__ millennia old and already so wise. When did she become so much like Celebrían? _

Choices to make, and ones he could not make entirely alone. He rose and left the study to find Glorfindel and Erestor.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

"We leave at week's end," her brother supplied, but he did not glance up from his packing.

"Aye, I heard as much; there is talk spreading throughout the house since the council this morning." Andúnë paused, drew a breath, and steeled herself to ask the next question. "Did Adar say anything about who will go?"

Unseen by her, her brothers exchanged an amused look between themselves; the silent exchange of unheard words passing between them.

"Not really, Dúnë; well, besides us that is. I think of few of the less experienced healers will be going, and a guard will come with us as well. Other than that, I do not know Ada's thoughts."

Andúnë looked annoyed and exasperated for a moment, until it sunk in that her brothers were most likely playing with her. Well, two (or three) could play that game.

"You mean, you did not ask him?! But you told us you would!" She made a very passable attempted at looking sad and hurt. 

"Of course we did seler, but as I said, he told us nothing. Honestly, we promised you we would. Do you really think we'd break a promise to our favorite sister?" 

He sounded almost sincere, and she nearly broke her composure to laugh aloud. "But surely he would have said something? You are simply not telling me. He is refusing to let us go, isn't he? That is why you will not tell me. Fine then, I will leave you to your work. But if Ada thinks for one moment that we're just going to sit at home and—"

Elladan interrupted her tirade with a laugh. "Enough! Enough! You have made your point. Yes, you are coming with us. We can hardly afford to leave two of our best healers here. Or one at least," he added, unable to give up the chance of one last joke at his sister's expense. 

But either she did not hear him, which he thought unlikely, or his previous sentence had so thrilled her it had driven all other thoughts from her mind. 

"I must tell Rómë!" and she disappeared from the room. 

Elladan grinned at his twin, and added silently to himself: _option number two apparently. She's so predictable sometimes; how boring. _Oh it was going to be an interesting few weeks.

He resumed cataloguing the herbs they were packing for the trip, his mind turning back to more serious thoughts. The next few weeks would be among the most difficult of his life, of that he was sure.


	21. Difficult Choices

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings. I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books. Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man). Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

Rómë fought back the tears that were threatening to start falling down her cheeks. "They are dying, Elladan, and there is nothing we can do. No comfort we can five to ease their passing, nor stop the grief of those left. What is this sickness that even Elvish medicine cannot cure it?"

Her brother surveyed the tent that had been set-up slightly outside the town of Bree. Here the sick were brought, in a vain attempt to keep the deadly illness from spreading through the entire town. Brought here seeking help and healing, but all they found was death. Elrond's son smiled bitterly at the irony. Here were men who had little love for the elves, coming to them for aid, but there was no aid to give.

Elladan had wracked his memory for anything that he had heard or studied that was similar to this sickness, but he had found nothing. Even Elrond, greatest of the healers left in Middle-earth had no answer.

In the three weeks since the Elven party had arrived in Eriador, the number of sick had grown from a few dozen to hundreds. And now there were hundreds dead, and nothing could be done to stem the tide of illness. He knew they should have left already; that it was pointless to stay as it only gave the men false hope. Only three Breelanders had so far survived the illness, but they had been only mildly sick. They had recovered on their own, for certainly the medicines given them had made no difference, as it hadn't in all the others either. The Elves were doing no good, and Elladan had received a message from his father the day before, informing him it would be advisable to leave.

But Elladan had found he could not. Even if there was no cure, no help to east the sickness, at least the Elven presence seemed to calm the frantic townspeople and remind them they were not alone. Soon, however, they would have to leave.

A week before Elrohir had taken Dúnë and ridden north to the other towns. Elladan had received only one message from his brother since then. The letter had been short and bitter: _They are dying and there is nothing we can do_. Stark truth it was, and the realization of seeing it in writing, done so beautifully in Tengwar, had cost Arómenë her composure. Her bother was certain she had wept most of the night, rather than slept. But he could not blame her, for he wished to weep as well.

Weep for the frailty of a mortal life; the shortness of such a precious thing; how quickly it came into being and how suddenly it ended. He had once heard his father compare a mortal life to that of a candle. It started fresh and tall and strong, but as soon as it was lit, it became shorter and older, and as the years of a mortal life passed so too did a candle burn down, until there was nothing left and the flame went out. Indeed, the length of time a candle burned was equal to that of a mortal life in the eyes of the immortal Eldar. Quick and sudden; harsh and bitter; short and abrupt.

And shorter still when consumed by and unstoppable illness.

Elladan turned suddenly to his young sister and said: "We are leaving. We could not do what we came here to do. It is time for us to go."

She nodded even as the tears raced each other down her fair cheeks; and watching her, Elladan could not stop his own tears from falling.

And so that day, in the small town of Bree, a few mortals witnessed a sight that even those numbered among the Númenoreans were seldom blessed (or unblessed) to see. As the tears fell over the fair beings faces they shone like gems in the candlelight: for one brief moment it seemed to all as if the very stars themselves must be weeping for the death of man.

They left at dawn the next day, ridding north to meet the other party before they turned East for home. Five more Breelanders had died in the night.

With the wagons and horses it was nearly a week before they reached the valley. A week in which the twins watched Arómenë retreat into herself and fall into grief so deep even her sister could not reach her. The twins pushed the Elven party as fast as they dared, but even so they feared it might be too late for their young sister. Elladan nearly collapsed in relief when they crested the hill at sunset to find the lights of the Last Homely House glittering below, and their father waiting for them. He searched his sons' eyes quickly before striding forward to take his youngest from her perch in front of Dúnë. Rómë made no acknowledgement as her father wrapped her in his warm cloak and, mounting his own horse, set off at a canter for the house.

Elladan was so relieved when Elrond explained to him that his sister would be alright that he was able to sleep soundly for the first time in weeks; Elrohir curled beside him.

The following weeks and the months seemed to pass with agonizing slowness; an unknown quality to the Eldar. Every few days a new message would arrive: more dead, more sick, the illness spreading west; they became worse every time.

Elrond and his children clenched their fists and prayed to Ilúvatar to spare their descendents' race, but to no avail. The race of men was facing its end.

But as all things will, even sickness will die out on its own, sooner or later. It seemed to be later, but by the time the year was out there were few cases of the illness left anywhere west of the Misty Mountains. Though many had died, and whole towns were left nearly deserted, the race of men did not meet its end. It survived, and grew stronger, but it was hardened from the experience and ever after the villages between the mountains and the Shire showed little love for any outsiders, even the Elves who had tried so hard to aid them.


	22. Of the History of Arnor

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

**AN: Oh you're going to hate me.  This is a very poor way to start off again, but I suppose it's better than nothing: at least you're going to get the rest of this story!  Terribly sorry for the depressing part.  Wait…all of it's depressing!**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

_     In the year 1975 of the Third Age the Heirs of Isildur met in battle with the great Witch-king at the city of Fornost.  The battle, long and bloody, ended in the drowning of King Arvedui, and the final defeat of the North Kingdom.  Many lost their lives, both men and women, but those that escaped went into hiding.  They became a wandering folk. The King's son Aranarth took the title of Chieftain of the Dúnedain and the land was divided among lesser leaders.  Without a king or kingdom, the great heirlooms of the House of Arnor were brought to Rivendell and given into the keeping of Lord Elrond.  The shards of Narsil were given a place of honor within the house, in front of the great mural that was painted after the Last Alliance, depicting Isildur's defeat of the Dark Lord._

            She closed the book and raised her eyes to the same painting, tears coming unbidden as she beheld the scene.  The work had always affected her emotionally, though she had grown up passing it almost every day.  But in the recent years, as she witnessed the northern lands fall apart, such a remembrance had become something that caused her only pain.

            Her father's library was littered with books on the history of Middle-earth, but since she was old enough to understand what happened in the world outside the sheltered valley in which she lived, she had set quill to paper and kept a journal of the events.  She never wrote much; it was only an overview of the most important happenings.  But it was important to her, to keep her own record of what happened.

            Never before, however, had an entry caused her tears.  In the last few years there had simply been so much going on without the borders of her land, and most of it had affected her in some way.  Her brothers had been gone two years now; fighting up in the north.  She knew them to be well, but that did not stop her constant worrying over their welfare.  

            A messenger had arrived that morning, bearing with him the shards of the sword.  Elrond had set them upon a temporary pedestal before the fresco.  The craftsmen of the valley would carve a proper statue to hold them, but for now, this would do.  They were of a forgotten time, anyways; told of a history of weakness that few in Imladris cared to remember.  Their presence brought only pain to her father; a reminder of how he had failed, even as Isildur had failed.

            Soft footfalls alerted her to her father's presence.  Elves walked in utter silence, but Elrond's mortal blood often betrayed him, though only an elf would was able to hear it.  

            "Ada," she whispered, setting her journal aside and making room for him on the bench.

            He sat beside her and laid a hand upon her shoulder.  The she-elf relaxed into his hold, burying her face in his velvet robes and she had not done for many years.  He could not heal her of this pain, nor bring her much comfort; but he understood at least, what she felt.  

            "Iston. Do not dwell in the past tithen min.  Do not grieve for them."

            "I must, Ada; I do not think I can do anything else.  This should not have happened.  It would not have, had…" but she trailed off, staring at the painting instead.

            Her father nodded in understanding.  "No, it should not have happened.  However, it has, and there is nothing that can now be done about it.  Arnor is no more, but its people still remain, though they are greatly reduced.  They will need our aid in the years to come.  Can you do that, my daughter?"

            She nodded against him, but could not find the voice to answer.  He kissed her forehead gently and rose to leave.

            "Hannon le, adar.  I will offer any help I can.  They are kin, however distant and remote.  We will not abandon them."

            "No, we will not.  A goodnight to you, Arómenë.  May your dreams be pleasant."

            She paused in consideration before picking up the quill again.  Dipping it into the ink she put it to the page once more.

_            But though the Dúnedain seemed to vanish into the lands of their home, they were not forgotten.  Rivendell became a place of refuge for them, and often were their children sent there with their mothers to foster, so that the succeeding generation might be kept safe._

            Setting the quill aside on a nearby table she retrieved her bookmark and lay it gently between the pages.  Closed book clutched to her breast she retired to her room, and what she hoped would indeed be a pleasant night, though she knew otherwise.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

     _The South Kingdom has now fallen.  King __Eärnur was lost in 2050 of the Third Age after riding to Minus Morgul to the challenge the Nazgûl; he left no heir.  A Stewardship was then established, with the first Steward Mardil of Gondor.  They are to keep the kingdom until such a time as a king might return.  But there are no kings now, though the royal line still lingers in the Northern realm.  Gondor is a land besieged by the enemy, and ever are her borders attacked by the power of Mordor.  Minus Ithil fell years ago, renamed to the dreaded Minus Morgul where Eärnur lost his life._

_     The great kingdoms of men are no more.  The elves too, are fading, and it is not now safe to travel between the havens.  The Misty Mountains have grown dark and Moria teems with orcs.  Dol Guldur spreads its evil through Mirkwood and the city of the Wood Elves is under constant attack._

_     There is no power left to challenge the Dark Lord, as he well knows.  He needs only to regain his power and the world shall fall._

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

_ROTK, Appendix B; the Tale of Years: in the year 2509, Celebrían, journeying to Lórien, is waylaid in the Redhorn Pass, and receives a poisonous wound.  A year later, unable to be healed in Middle-earth, she departs over the Sea to Valinor._

            She stared out across the endless expanse of grey water, searching in vain for a glimpse of the far shore.  There was nothing there to see, of course, she knew that in her mind, but her heart bade her look nonetheless, frantic for some desperate connection with an anchor in the turmoil her life had suddenly become.

            She felt her sister's presence beside her more than saw it.  Felt also the despair in her heart, for it was in hers as well.  

            The white sail had disappeared nearly an hour before, out of sight now of even elvish eyes.  The sun, too was almost gone down below the waters, seeming to follow the ship to the Blessed Lands.

            But she would not leave this place.  She could not bear to turn from the shore and look east across Middle-earth and know that her mother was truly gone.  As long as she stayed here, looking out to sea, she could cling to hope that the ship would return as the sun did.  But her mind told her it was all in vain.

            She felt a hand on her shoulder and knew it belonged to her father.  Her father that had failed them; had been unable to heal her and so she had left.  Even as the thought passed her mind, as it had many times over the preceding months, she knew it was a lie.  She knew he had done all he could and then some, and that there was none this side of the sea who could have healed her hidden wounds.  But she was angry, and he seemed the easiest target at that moment.  It hurt all the more, she realized, because she had know this day would come.  She had foreseen long ago her mother's fate and the grief that would follow her family the rest of their days.  But at the time she had not understood, fully, what she had seen, and had clung to her grandmother's words that not even the mirror showed all things or even definite things.  In her heart, however, she had known, even if she had not accepted it, and she was suddenly angry with herself as well, for not believing or understanding…for not doing something to save her mother.

            She shrugged the hand off and stepped closer to the cliff edge.  She had no intention of jumping: the thought never even crossed her mind.  But Elrond must have suddenly been struck with a memory of watching his mother stand there, looking out and trying in vain to see her husband's ship, and he pulled her forcefully back from the edge, for the first time in nearly three hours breaking her eye contact with the waves.  She struck out at him, but it was a weak punch and he pulled her closer so that she was trapped in his arms.  She struggled for a moment, only half heartedly, before her exhaustion made itself know and she collapsed against him, dragging him to the ground with her.  

            Elrond cradled her in his arm, offering the other to Andúnë who took it gladly.  And there they sat; the twin girls sobbing in their father's arms, Elrond looking out to sea as they had been doing a moment before.

            _I fear they will follow you , my love.  This parting is bitter indeed, especially for Rómë.  I fear she will leave me as well.   Sail West, or fade.  And Dúnë will follow where she goes, as it has ever been.  Why did you have to go?  Why did you leave them here to spend the waning years of the elves brooding in grief until it is my time to leave?  How could you have done this to us?_

But even as he thought it, he knew it had not been Celebrían's fault, any more than being unable to heal her had been his.  But he felt suddenly so alone, as he had not felt since he held his foster-father and King in his arms as the light faded from Gil-galad's eyes.  Galadriel had once told him his life would be full of grief and death.  And when he was younger he had thought that strange, for he was Elven, and elves rarely died.  But then his brother, dear Elros, had chosen mortality, and he had known her words to be true.  He had lost so many since then; to death or to the sea.  And now he feared to loose two more, if not three.  

            He tore his eyes from the rolling ocean before him and found his oldest daughter's eyes.  She stood near to them, a hand clasped to each of her brother's, tears tracing silver tracks down her face.  Ever had she been the closest to her mother, even more so than Arómenë.  He was terrified she would not survive this harsh parting.

            For although Elrond had the foresight that was granted to all elves, indeed in power such as to rival that of his mother-in-law's, he did not see everything, and his children's future was the most clouded of all.

            He would soon learn his worrying had been for naught.  For his daughters knew their own futures, and death from this grief at least, was not among them.  For their Fate, at least to a certain extent, was akin to his, and Arwen's most of all.  To walk beneath the trees of Middle-earth until all they had gained was lost, and finally, to pass into the West.  Such was the end for the Half-Elven.

            He clutched his daughters tighter, his own tears mingling with theirs as the last of the Peredhil lamented the bitterness of his choice.


	23. Only the Beginning

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

**AN:  Look at me, I _can_ update.  I can also skip 500 years of history without bating an eyelash.  I apologize if I have skipped events you were fond of, but after spending far too many hours reading through the timeline and planning it out, I realized that for the twins, nothing exceptionally important happens between Celebrían's sailing and Arathorn's death.  At least nothing worth writing about.  So, here is the tale of baby Aragorn and his coming to Imladris.  **

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            "They have not returned?" Rómë asked as she entered the study.  Her father was sitting as his desk, vainly going over papers.  She was certain he hadn't read a single word.  Her sister was standing but a foot away from where the rain was pouring down; the sound on the roof nearly deafening in the silence of the room.

            The twins had sent a rider ahead of their party, saying they were but a few hours away and in desperate need of medical aide.  The messenger had spilled out the entire tale as he stood dripping all over the study floor; but Elrond would not let him leave until he had heard it all.

            The twins had ridden out two weeks ago to meet up with a group of Rangers, led by the Dunadan himself.  They were off to track a band of orcs that had been ravaging too close to the northern settlements.  Rivendell had had no word since then, and did not really expect one until the twins themselves returned.   But the storm was an ominous sign, and when the elf had ridden into the courtyard, those that saw him knew immediately that something was very wrong.

            Very wrong indeed; Rómë sighed, bringing back to her mind the panicked words of the elf her brothers had sent ahead of them to tell Elrond what had happened.

            They had caught up with the orcs four days ago and attacked late afternoon; the battle had gone well with few injuries to the Rangers and none to the twins.  They had ridden back to the nearest Ranger settlement, planning to stay a few days to be certain there were no further problems.

            Two days later a band of orcs, nearly akin to the Rangers in numbers, attacked the camp.  Things would no doubt have gone quite differently had the settlement not contained women and children.  The Rangers had done what they could to draw the orcs away, but the battle had lasted until morning; leaving all the orcs dead, but many of the Dúnedain as well.  Their Chieftain among them.

            The twins had stayed long enough to give what aid they could and see the survivors on the road north to another, larger camp.  They had then left for home, taking only a small party of men with them; those most seriously injured and in need of Lord Elrond's skill.  And with them they were bringing the now widowed wife of the Dúnedain Chief, and her young son; the two-year-old Heir of Isildur.

            Her father was on edge; not only with worry over his sons and concern over the men who were injured, but most of his thought was focused on the young boy; a child who was now in deadly danger.

            Arómenë came to stand beside her sister, gazing out into the blackness beyond.  They should have arrived by now, unless something had befallen them on the road.  She hoped not; she was terrified for her brothers, but even her own thoughts drifted to the boy.  What would her father do now?  He had sheltered the Heirs before now, but never one as young as this.  The boy was now fatherless, and in danger anywhere he went.  If the enemy learned who he was, or where he was….Rómë couldn't bear the thought.  They would hunt the child mercilessly until they found and killed him.  No, he must be kept safe, and nowhere was now safer than the Valley, where the enemy was not yet able to enter.

            The sound of hooves hitting the stone courtyard snapped her swiftly from her thoughts.

            "Ada!  They are here!"  And without a pause she caught Dúnë's hand and hurried her from the room.  

            The twins were issuing quick orders when they arrived at the front entrance.  But the girls did not venture out into the rain; it would be no help to get soaking wet.  Elrohir appeared at Rómë's side out of the darkness, and she grabbed him fiercely to her.  "We have been so worried the last few hours.  Ada will be waiting in the Halls for you.  Dúnë and I will see to the lady Gilraen."

            Elrohir acknowledged her quickly and motioned his brother inside.  Three men followed them, carrying two others in their arms.  Even in the darkness Rómë could see the blood, and she could certainly smell it.  She sent a quick prayer to the Valar that they were not too late.  But the injured men were her brothers' and father's concern, and she must look to the lady and Arathorn's young child.

            Gilraen was standing beside her horse, clutching a bundle in her arms and staring at the house before her as if she did not really see it.  And no doubt she did not; Arathorn had visited here before, but not his wife, and Rómë guessed the combined shock of the elven refuge and the recently violent death of her husband wasn't leaving her mind much room for thought.

            "Lady Gilraen, please come out of the rain!" Dúnë shouted from her sister's side.  No answer or even acknowledgement came from the figure.

            "I suppose we shall be getting wet then," Rómë sighed.  "I shall bring her."  And she ran out from the cover of the house, took the woman around the shoulders and propelled her forwards.  If she expected a reaction at all, she was disappointed.

            "Come, and let's get you into some dry clothes.  Is the child well?"  The twins were looking intently at the still bundle she held so tightly; hoping that the child simply slept.  "Gilraen, is the child well?"

            The woman blinked, and stared down at the babe, as if realizing for the first time that she held him.  She looked back at the twins and nodded.  "Then let us get you dry; you will catch your death in this weather."  Dúnë said, and then winced at the mention of 'death'.  But Gilraen made no reaction and the elves continued to lead her down the halls towards their own chambers.

            It took surprisingly little convincing on their part to get the woman to give up the boy into Rómë's care, and even less to get her into a warm bath and dry clothes.  Rómë unwrapped the boy to find he was indeed sleeping.  His heartbeat was even and he seemed warm, despite having been wrapped in wet blankets, but she supposed there had been so many of them that the rain had not soaked completely through.

            "Ah, tithen min, I am so very sorry for what has happened.  I cannot imagine what it will be like, to grow up without your father; but I do understand what it is to loose a parent.  But we shall do what we can, and I have no doubt Gilraen is a wonderful mother.  You shall never lack for love, hen nin.  I shall make sure of it myself."  Just then the boy opened his eyes and stared up at her, and she was startled to see familiar eyes looking back at her.  "Valar, you look just like them!"  

            Dúnë froze in the doorway and stared at her sister.  "Rómë, what is it?"

            Her twin looked up at her, and Dúnë was stunned to see tears in her eyes.  "What is wrong seler?" she rushed to her side.  

            "The boy…" her sister choked, "look at his eyes."  Dúnë glanced down at the child and saw her father's eyes staring back at her.  "He's…he…" she trailed off, at a loss for words.  But Rómë found her voice; "Never has there been an Heir that looked so much like his forefather.  By Yavanna, he could be Elros' own child!  Dúnë, if Ada sees him…" but she too trailed off, knowing there was no reason to finish the thought out loud.  

            "Is everything well?"

Rómë whipped around to find her eldest brother standing just inside the room.  He was stilled dressed in his traveling clothes, although he had taken off his soaked outer tunic, and he looked physically and mentally tired; and under it all, Rómë could see the strain that the loss of Arathorn was causing.  But at that very moment she had little thought to spare for her brother's grieving mental state.  Come morning it would be time to grieve for the dying, but tonight there were more important things to worry about, like a little boy.

"Rómë?"  Elladan was beside her now and he reached out a hand to her shoulder, glancing between the two of them.

"Elladan," his youngest sister breathed and turned her gaze to the child.  Elladan followed her eyes to that of the child's and gasped.  "Elros…"  

The girls nodded in mute agreement.  A noise from the washing room shook Dúnë out of her trance and she hurried back to Gilraen, helping the woman to the bed.  Brushing her siblings aside she took the boy into her arms and returned him to his mother.  Gilraen curled around him on the bed, closed her eyes and uttered no words to any of them.  

Elladan had by then recovered enough to pull them from the room before whispering: "Adar has seen to the men; one of them shall recover, but the other he is not certain will live through the night.  He will not leave the bedside, but Elrohir and I will stay with him, should he need anything.  I suggest you both go to your rest; although, perhaps it would be best if one of you stayed with Lady Gilraen tonight."

His sisters nodded and bid him a goodnight, knowing he would have anything but.  Dúnë offered first watch on the young woman and her twin relented, retiring to Dúnë's room for a few hours rest.  

The Valley quieted, even the storm had passed off, but the emotional turmoil rolled through the house, and very few of its inhabitants slept soundly.


	24. Estel

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

**AN: Okay, please forgive me, but I was un-expectantly and unavoidably without internet all week.  I just got it back this morning, so here's the next chapter.  The next will be up Monday.  The next few bits are going to be more Aragorn centered…I've been waiting a year to write the 'Bilbo meets 10-year-old Estel' part.  **

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            Dawn the next morning was a relief to a great many in Imladris.  The sun rising over the treetops to a clear blue sky touched the opened eyes of the wounded Ranger Elrond had feared would not last the night.  It played across the face of Gilraen who still slept, and turned the eyes of her child into sparkling diamonds.  The warmth brought Dúnë from her rest, and comforted her sister's tortured mind.  The sun's rising that day brought hope and peace to those in greatest need of it and the overwhelming thought swept through all those whose rays it touched:  everything would be well in time.

            "She still sleeps?" Dúnë asked, quietly stealing across the room to Rómë's side beside Gilraen's bed.  They had switched places in the early morning, but the woman had been oblivious to it all.

            The elf nodded tiredly.  "I don't know what I should do, if anything.  She needs the rest, no doubt she hasn't had any in the last few days, but I am worried for her.  'Tis not good to grieve so, and the child needs her.  He cannot afford to loose both his parents at once."

            "I think it is time we found Ada and see about the rangers.  Look, the boy is awake, perhaps it would be best if Ada sees him for the first time now.  The Dúnedain have long memories, but I do not think they still remember whose brother their first forefather was.  I would not want to frighten Gilraen by his reaction."

            "Yes, I think that best.  Come, tithen min," she coaxed and lifted the boy from his mother's arms.  For a moment she thought the woman might wake, but she simply changed position and continued to slumber.  The twins stole silently out of the room.

            "How would you like some breakfast, tithen min?  And you can meet our father.  He will dearly love to see you."  It was still early yet and so they headed to the Healing Halls instead of the kitchens.  

            Elrond was sitting by the bed of the wounded ranger, quietly talking to the man so as not to disturb the others lying in beds nearby.  Elladan was asleep in a chair in the corner, but of Elrohir there was no sign.  The girls approached the bedside slowly so as not to startle either of them.  But their father had heard their entrance and glanced up to bid them good morn.  He froze when he saw the child.

            "Good morning Ada.  And a good morn to you as well, Ranger.  I am glad to see you well today.  Ada, this is young Aragorn, Gilraen's son," she introduced him needlessly.  "Tithen min, this is our father," and she handed him into the elf-lord's waiting arms.

            Elrond stared at the child in awe, taking in his age, eyes and adorable face all at once.  Rómë tried to stifle a laugh at the speechless look on his face; it was such a rare occurrence.  When he did finally tear his eyes away from the babe his daughters saw they were filled with tears.  

            "Oh Ada," Rómë cried.  "We were not certain how to tell you, after we saw him last night.  Are you well?"  She was nearing tears again as well as she took the child back from his unwilling arms.

            "I am well.  I was simply caught of guard.  Does Lady Gilraen still sleep?  Very well, perhaps you might take Aragorn down to the kitchens and find some breakfast.  I will speak with you later."

            The twins nodded and retreated from the room, allowing Elrond to return his attention to the young warrior.  If the young man had noticed the extra shine in the elf-lord's eyes, he gave no sign of it.

            "Well now Aragorn, what is it you like to eat?  As memory serves you cannot be much past two years; barely weaned.  How about some soft biscuits and milk?"  The toddler giggled and pulled on a lock of her hair.

            Dúnë laughed as her sister winced in pain; trying to detangle the child's fingers from the golden stands.  She wasn't having much luck.  "You know seler, for the love we share you could be kind and assist me." Dúnë covered her mouth and continued to snicker.  "Or you could just laugh at me further."  She sighed in resignation.

            "Here you are, child," she said absently and placed a warm bun in front of him.  Aragorn snatched it into his hand and began stuffing his face.  Dúnë looked thoroughly disgusted, but her sister was paying little attention to the boy.

            One of the kitchen staff handed her a glass and she passed that on as well, barely sparing him a look as he proceeded to spill half of it down his front.

            "Should you not," Dúnë started, "do something about him?  He's making a thorough mess."  Her sister gave the Dúnedain a fleeting look and shrugged.  "He's two, seler; that it what two-year-old mortals do.  Come to think of it, twenty-year-old mortals do that as well," she grimaced.  "You need not fear; I will clean him up."  And without further attention to the child she focused on her own meal; ignoring the long suffering groan from her twin.

            Sometimes it was just too easy.

            The sudden entrance of their brothers interrupted Rómë's thoughts.  "And good morning to you, seler nin, Dúnë," Elladan nodded at them both.  Andúnë glared at him, but after so many years hearing the same greeting she lacked the interest to protest it.  Elladan never listened to her anyway.

            "How is our little Dúnedain this morning?  Sleep well Aragorn?"  If Elladan thought there was anything strange with the boy covered in biscuit crumbs and milk, he kept it to himself.  But then, after seeing three sisters raised, even elven ones, the mysteries of how children became so dirty were probably well known to him.

            "He's filthy, he's loud, and he can barely speak: how can you stand it?" Elrohir laughed as his middle sister bemoaned her current fate.  "How can you say such things?" he asked.  "Just look at him: isn't he adorable?"  Dúnë made a face at him and promptly removed herself from the room.  The sound of elven laughter followed her out.

            "She makes it so easy, it's almost boring," Elrohir echoed Rómë's earlier thoughts.

            The three looked at each other.  "Almost," they chorused.

            "I would dearly appreciate it if you refrained from the open mockery of your sister in the public areas of this house.  She is dejected enough as it is with the Prince gone, need you add to it?"  Their father appeared beside the table; his stern glance stifling the laughter.

            "Yes," his youngest agreed.

            Elrond took a deep breath and looked at Aragorn.  "My, my, aren't we a talented young boy; not even half an hour and already you are covered in food.  You remind me of my own children," he smiled innocently at said children.  "Why don't we go and take a bath?  And find you some clean clothing before your mother sets eyes on you.  Elladan, Elrohir, I believe you have duties to attend to.  And iell nin, I just passed Glorfindel on his way to the archery range.  You are late for your lesson."

            Rómë blanched and shot from the room so fast, she would have knocked her chair over had her father not caught it.  Elrond gave his sons a pointed look and, picking Aragorn up he walked sedately from the room.

            His sons waited only a moment before they began snickering.  One of the cooks rolled her eyes and set their breakfast before them.  "I was in Lindon when your father, Lord Elrond was young.  And I would have you know that he never acted in such an appalling way.  If I did not have the respect I do for the Lady Celebrían, I would say you get it from her side.  It must be a problem with half-elven children only, and hér Elrond was simply blessed he never suffered from such.  If you were mine…" she trailed off threateningly.

            "But we are not Elcalassë; so be thankful."

            "I am," she stated and left them to their meal.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            "Ada!  He won't stop crying…and I do not want Gilraen to wake…and what is wrong with him?!"

            Elrond was rudely roused from his rest by his youngest daughter's shouts and the incessant crying of a young child.

            "Hush, iell nin," he soothed her; taking the disgruntled boy from her arms.  The child snuggled closer to the soft velvet of the Lord's robes, but continued to cry.

            "Well?" his daughter demanded.  "Something must be wrong.  He cannot be hungry or wet, I have checked.  And he just woke up.  I thought he wanted attention, but I have been walking the halls with him and he just continues to cry.  What should I do?"

            She collapsed onto the bed and buried her face in the blankets.

            "There, there.  You are not used to handling a crying infant.  Annaelen was unusually quiet when he was young.  Some babes simply cry more than others.  I am sorry this little one has chosen to, but after the past week I am not much surprised."

            The babe's cries had softened somewhat by then, as he cuddled near.  Rómë's concerned look faded as she watched her father comfort the little boy.  She wished she could have captured the image forever. 

            Elrond smiled at her.  "Go to bed, iell nin.  I will watch him for the night."

            "Are you certain, Ada?  I do not mind, really."  She didn't sound terribly convinced.

            "_I_ do not mind.  It has been many years since last I stayed awake to comfort a child, but I think I remember how.  Go to your rest."

            "Hannon le, Adar." She turned and crept silently from the room; back to the warmth and comfort of her bed.

            "Ai, tithen min, everything will be well.  You will stay with me tonight and let your mother rest, yes?"

            Grey eyes met his own and the boy finally ceased his cries.  He smiled up at his great-uncle and then closed his eyes in sleep.  Elrond laughed, struck suddenly by the memory of a morning so long ago when he had held his youngest daughter in his arms and named her.

            Careful not to jostle the sleeping mortal, the Lord rose from the bed and found a chair on the balcony.  Wrapping the child closely in his blanket, he settled down to wait for the sunrise.


	25. A Long Expected Meeting

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

**AN: I'm not entirely happy with this.  This was one of those situations where I kind of got carried away with things…and just _wrote_.  But it's my longest chapter yet, if that counts for anything.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            "Ada!  Ada!  You must come and see ada!  El'dan has brought dwarves with him!"

            Ten-year-old Estel could not stop his excitement spilling from his mouth as he rushed into his father's study.

            Elrond smiled, amused at the child's antics.  "Oh he has, has he?  And does he bring them as prisoners or guests?"

            Estel looked appalled at this question.  "Guests of course, Ada.  Why would we want dwarves as prisoners?"

            "A very good point, but why do you not go and enquire of Elladan himself why he brings dwarves to the Valley?"

            The boy was off like a light and Elrond, laughing still, followed at a pace fitting an elven-lord of his stature; though like his young son, he was just as curious.

            Elrond was surprised to see just how _many_ dwarves there really were.  Thirteen to be exact and a small being he identified as a hobbit at second glance and…Gandalf.  He should have known.

            "Well, well, Mithrandir, you have amazed me once more.  And why do you show up upon my doorstep with such a large company?"

            "Ah, Master Elrond!  We have come seeking you wisdom, and a brief rest, if you do not mind?"  But of course Gandalf knew Elrond did not mind at all, and that the Last Homely House was always open to any travelers in need of aid.

            "Be welcome, mellon nin." And here Elrond switched to the common tongue, for he and Gandalf had been conversing in Sindarin.  "Welcome to you all; my home is open to any in need of rest and aid.  I am Elrond, master of this Valley.  Please, we will show you to rooms where you may refresh yourselves.  Dinner will be waiting for you when you are finished."  He motioned Elladan and Elrohir, who had been standing near him since entering the courtyard.  "Please show our guests to their rooms.  I mid you a good day," he addressed the visitors again.  

            But as Elrond turned to leave the courtyard, he realized that he had not seen any sign of Estel.  "Elrohir," he called as he turned around.  "Have you seen your brother?"

            Elrohir glanced around him with a confused expression.  "Why yes, Adar, he was only just here.  Estel?!  Estel, where are you?"

            "Here I am," a voice whispered from behind the nearby bushes.  Estel stepped out and gave his father a nervous glance.  

            Elrond motioned him forward and leaned down to whisper in the child's ear.  "What is wrong ion nin, you were so excited in my study?"

            "I didn't, um, realized how, um, _big_ they were Ada." 

            "Oh," Elrond nodded in understanding.  "Well, I promise you Estel, they will do you no harm.  Why do you not go with the twins and show our guests to their rooms?  I must speak with Gandalf."  Estel nodded and scampered off after his brothers, who were already leading the large part into the house.

            "He has grown since last I saw him," came a voice at his shoulder.  Elrond turned to the wizard and nodded, eyes distant.   "Yes, he has.  Too fast, much too fast."

            "But come, mellon nin; I think we have much to discuss."

            Estel said not a word as he followed the dwarves down the hall to the guest wing.  He hid in the shadows as Elladan and Elrohir showed the party the bathing room and directed to bedrooms where they might rest until the evening mood.  The young boy was extremely curious about these new guests, and wondered what they were doing here, but he was too terrified to ask them.  

            But when all thirteen of the dwarves had been shown to rooms, Estel realized there was one more member of the party that he had overlooked.  He was the size of a boy younger even than Estel, but he did not look like a boy, nor was he a dwarf.

            At the same time, the queer guest seem to notice for the first time that there was a boy following the group, though he was trying in vain to hid behind a nearby statue.

            "Excuse me, my lord," Bilbo asked of the twin elves, for though he could remember their names, he did not know which was which. 

            "Yes Master Hobbit?  Here is a room where you can rest," Elladan motioned to the door he had stopped in front of.  "Is there anything you need?"

            "Yes, thank you.  I was wondering, though I'm sure it's not my place; who that young boy is who is following us?"

            The two elves laughed in amusement.  "Estel, come here," Elrohir called.  "You need not be afraid.  This is Mr. Bilbo Baggins, and he is a hobbit from the Shire."

            Estel hesitantly approached his brothers' sides and wearily held out his hand.  "Nice to meet you Mr. Baggins."

            "And a pleasure to meet you, Estel, was it?"  Elladan nodded.  "That means 'hope' does it not?"

            Estel nodded.  "You know elvish?"  He was not so nervous anymore, for Bilbo was actually shorter than him.

            "Oh, only a little bit.  Am I right?"  The hobbit looked slightly surprised.

            "Yes you are, Master Baggins.  Estel does indeed mean 'hope' in our tongue.  He is a ward of my father, Elrond, and my foster-brother.  We shall leave you in peace Bilbo.  Someone will come to call you for dinner at sundown."

            "Oh, thank you.  It was nice meeting you!" He called, as all three brothers were already disappearing down the hall.

            "Well," said Bilbo aloud.  "That was a strange meeting.  I wonder what a child of men is doing in a house of elves?

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            "Rómë!  Rómë!  You will never guess who is here?"

            "Oh I won't, will I?  Are you so sure about that Estel?  You are not the only one who heard of our new guests.  But have you seen them already?"  She smiled as Estel climbed onto the bench beside her.

            "Oh yes, I was in the courtyard when they got here.  And I helped the twins show them to their rooms.  And I met Mr. Baggins, he's a hobbit!  I've never met a hobbit before, have you?"

            "Why I have Estel, though not Mr. Baggins.  When I was younger I traveled with your brothers often in the lands west of here, where hobbits live.  They are an interesting people, aren't they?  Did you like Mr. Baggins?"

            "Oh yes, he is shorter than me!"

            Rómë laughed.  "Yes he is!  And that is something new for you.  Well, have you heard?  We're to have a feast and singing in the Hall of Fire tonight."

            Estel began to bounce excitedly.  "Can I come?  Please, Rómë, can I come?"

            "Hum, well, I suppose so, but you may not be up past your bed time, am I understood?  And you are not to bother our guests."

            "Oh I won't, I promise.  Thank you Rómë!  What are you doing?"

            Arómenë turned to the book so the boy could read the spine.  Estel's face fell.  "Oh, it's just one of Ada's herb books.  I thought it was a history book; that is what you were reading yesterday."

            "Well, I finished that one.  But one can never have enough knowledge in herb lore.  Don't you want to be a great healer like Ada one day?"  Estel nodded.  "Well, than you will have to learn this too.  It's not _that_ boring.  Perhaps when you start your practical lessons with Ada this summer, it will be more interesting."

            "Do you really think so?"  The child's eyes were imploring.  Elrond had been promising to start teaching him practical medicine, instead of reading from a book, for months now.

            "Yes, I really think so.  Now, unless my eyes deceive me, dinner shall be soon.  Go and wash and put on your dress tunic.  And be on your best behavior tonight, Estel."

            "Oh, yes Rómë.  See you at dinner!" He called, already half way down the hall.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            "I am not coming.  The last thing I wish to do is sit in that hall, with a forced smile on my face, and listen to thirteen _dwarves_ talking about rocks and mithril!  I will stay here and eat in my room, and you may tell Ada what you will."

            Rómë gave an exasperated sigh and gave up.  Arguing with one's twin was akin to arguing with yourself.  And the youngest half-elf had never won an argument with herself.  "Fine, do what you will seler; you always do.  But you can march down to Ada's study right now and tell him yourself.  I am _so_ tired of making excuses for you!"  She resorted to a very un-elf-like grunt and left the room.

            Her sister ignored her parting and resumed the braiding of her hair that her twin has so rudely interrupted.

            But Rómë had certainly not so easily forgotten the argument, and was so ensconced in her frustration and anger that she completely missed the small form crossing the hall in front of her, and barreled right into it.

            "Oh!" the thing exclaimed in surprise from the floor.

            Rómë groaned.  Wonderful, now she had laid one of the guests to the ground.  Ada would kill her.  "I am so very sorry; please let me help you."  She reached out to help the fellow to his feet, and realized suddenly who it was.  "Oh, Master Hobbit, please forgive me!  I was not paying proper attention."

            He smiled at her nervous tone.  "No, no, it's quite alright.  I am used to such things.  No harm done.  Have we met?  You seem familiar…" he trailed off, staring at her.

            "No we have not, Mr. Baggins.  I am Arómenë Peredhil.  Elrond is my father."

            "Oh!" the small form exclaimed.  "I am so silly.  You look like the twins: your brothers, I suppose they are.  It is a pleasure; Bilbo Baggins at your service and your family's."

            "And I am at yours, little master.  I must say, however, that none has ever compared me to my brothers before.  And perhaps that is because most knew my mother, whom we closely resemble."  Bilbo's eyes narrowed at the 'we'.  Rómë laughed.  "Ah, forgive me for confusing you!  I have a twin sister as well, and we are as identical as my brothers.  Perhaps if you stay long enough, you shall meet her.  Ai," she began as the distant dinner bell rang.  "I wish we could speak longer, but that is the call to supper.  I should be happy to show you the way; and then perhaps we might speak after the meal?"

            "Oh, I should like that very much.  Thank you."

            "It is my pleasure, Master Hobbit.  This way," she motioned down in the direction she had originally been headed.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            The fire burned brightly in the central hearth as it did every day of the year.  Though outside the Valley there was a slight chill in the air, so near the mountains; here in Elrond's realm the weather was warm and pleasant, and the Hall of Fire warmer still.

            Bilbo relaxed into the soft cushions he had been shown to.  This was a life he could quite get used to, but Gandalf had already declared they would be leaving in only a few short days.  Bilbo thought the whole thing highly unfair.

            "Are you enjoying yourself Master Baggins?"  A soft voice spoke from beside him and he turned to realize Arómenë had settled beside him without Bilbo's notice.

            "Oh, hello my lady.  Yes, I am quite.  It must be wonderful to live here, with this every night," he gestured to the Hall and was somewhat confused when she laughed.

            It was clear ringing laughter, unlike anything Bilbo had ever heard, and he thought it the sweetest sound in the world.  Though her voice had been soft, and the Hall loud, her father apparently heard her well enough, for he glanced toward them and smiled.

            "Ai, I am sorry Master Baggins!  You misunderstand us, for we do not come here to the Hall very often at all; only when there are guests to entertain.  We are a quiet people, and do not often feast nor celebrate: there are few enough things to celebrate these last few yéni.  Nay, this is all for your pleasure, as our guest."

            Bilbo's eyes widened.  "I had not thought…thank you."  Rómë smiled kindly at him, for he seemed to not know what to say.

            "Will you tell me of your homeland, Mr. Baggins?  I have visited the Shire, though it has been some years, but I would welcome a hobbits view of it."

            Somewhat recovered, and with a topic he was comfortable with, Bilbo found himself relaxing.  "Only if you call me Bilbo, my lady."

            "That is a deal I can not pass up!  Very well, _Bilbo_, tell your tale, and I will listen."

            And she did listen, as the fire played across her golden hair and the moon rose over the Valley, she sat the hours away and listened as Bilbo told of green hills and clear water, pipe smoke and hobbit laughter.  It had been years since she had been so entranced by a simple story, but that night, she let all the cares and heartache of the years pass away, and she was just simply Arómenë.


	26. Uncertain Future

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

**AN:  Well, I must say, I'm not happy with this chapter, but I'm not quite sure what to do with it.  So, here it is anyways, and hopefully you aren't too disappointed while reading it.  And, just to give you one more reason to hate me, I changed the timeline a little.  In the canon, Estel meets Arwen right after Elrond reveals to him his heritage.  Here, well, you'll see.  Please forgive me for this, but it just kind of happened this way when I wrote it.  **

**We're getting to the end here folks, though that may be hard to believe.  A few more chapters left.  **

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            She embraced her sister tightly, drawing her close.  It had been so many years since last Arwen had been in Rivendell; even more years since she had called it home.  The Evenstar could not bare to be long in the Valley, for it brought to mind the memory of Celebrían, and brought Arwen only sorrow.  But she was here now, for a time at least, and that was enough for Rómë.

            "Seler, I have missed you," Arwen said as she brushed her youngest sister's cheek with her lips.  

            "Too long, seler.  I am sorry we have been unable to visit these past years.  Things have been…complicated," Rómë searched for another word and failed.  She smiled at Arwen.  "I am glad you are home."

            "As am I.  Now, wherever is Ada?"

            "That, seler nin, is a long story.  Come and greet the others; Ada awaits you in his study.  He wishes to speak with you."

            "Ah," Arwen said, eyes understanding.  "And a welcome home it is."

            The two sisters disappeared into the shadows of the doorway, just as Estel entered the courtyard.  He had heard the arrival of horses, and wondered at the visitors.  

            "Hail and well met!  Where do you ride from?" he asked to the nearest elf.

            "From Lórien, Master Human.  We came as escort to the Lady Galadriel's granddaughter."

            Estel would have asked more, but the guard was already turned away to lead his horse to the stables, leaving the young man to ponder his words.  _Granddaughter?_  So far as Estel knew, the Lady had only two granddaughters, and both of them had not left Rivendell in decades.  Elrond's young son had a distinctive feeling he had missed something, something fairly important.

            Wandering out of the courtyard towards the gardens, he decided to take a walk instead of seeking his father out.  Any visitors, granddaughters or otherwise, would always have an audience with his father upon arrival.  And Elrond would not want to be disturbed; Estel had learned that the hard way.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            The sun was beginning to sink below the tree-line, casting the forest into dimness.  But even without the assistance of Elven eyesight, Estel knew the woods around Imladris well enough to wander them even in the dark.  He was close to the house, though, and could see the lights peaking through the trees.  It would be dinner soon, and he should wash and dress before meeting the new guest.

            Out of the corner of his eyes he caught a flash of glowing silver moving between the trees.  Glancing over he realized it must be an elf but the glow, and whoever it was was heading for the lower bridge behind the council chambers.  Estel was overcome by curiosity; he had seen few wander this area before, and perhaps it this could be the mysterious visitor.

            Weaving through the trees he left the path in favour of the most direct route.  He caught sight of the figure again, and saw it was female, wearing a dress of spun silver.  He stepped closer, intending to call out, when suddenly she turned towards him, and in the fading light he saw her face.

            Speech left him, as well as thought.  In all his years he had lived among the elven race, and seen things of such beauty they would silence a man, he had never seen one as beautiful as this.  She was fair as all the elves were, and had the midnight hair he was accustomed to, but her beauty far surpassed any he had seen.  In moments his mind conjured up an image of Lúthien.  With the impulsiveness of a young man confronted with a beautiful woman, he called out to her with the only name he could think of.

            "Tinúviel! Tinúviel!"

            Startled she focused on him, her elven sight allowed her to pick him out among the trees.  "Do you call to me, sir?"

            "My lady," he started.  "Forgive me, I took you for a spirit.  You look as the pictures of Lúthien do.  But I see now, you are no spirit, but real as I."

            "You are not the first to mistake me for such.  I am descendent of Lúthien; she is my grandfather's grandmother.  But tell me, my lord, for I see you are human and not an elf;: how did you come to be here?  Though the Valley is a haven for all races, most visitors do not dress as if they were an elf."

            Estel blushed.  "I was raised here.  Elrond is my foster-father."

            Her face lit up at this.  "Oh, then we are kin, of a sort.  Elrond is my father, and I am Arwen, daughter of Celebrían."  She bowed her head slightly.

            Estel felt as if he should be bowing low to her, for she appeared as a queen of the valley, but he caught himself before he did.  "My lady, it is an honor to meet you.  I was not aware Elrond had a daughter, though I am well acquainted with his sons.  But tell me, your escort said you came from Lórien; is that why I have heard no word of you?"

            "Perhaps that is why, young lord.  I have been many years in my mother's lands, in the company of my grandparents.  But I could not bare to be away from my family any longer.  But I had heard no word of you, either, which seems to me strange.  If you are as you say a ward of my father's, he has never mentioned you in his letters, nor have my brothers on their visits.  And who might you be, to be so close to my family?"

            He blushed again, suddenly ashamed for some reason that he should count himself so high in the company of one who was actually blood-kin to Elrond.  "I know not why I was given such an honor, my lady, though I am of the north country, and my mother is Dúnedain.  My father was killed when I was a young child, and she brought me here to the Valley.  I know not why Elrond took me to raise, but I am thankful for it."

            The dinner bell rang through the Valley suddenly, and Estel started in surprise.  Arwen laughed, and her voice sounded sweet as a nightingale's.  "We should return to the house for evening meal," she suggested.  "I believe our father has some explaining to do."

            Estel agreed, but could not bring himself to walk beside her, instead he followed her down the path towards the main house.  Yes, Elrond had a good deal of explaining to do, but Estel suddenly seemed not to care that something so important had been kept from him all these years.  All that matter was that Arwen was here now.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            "Where is Estel?" Andúnë inquired of her sister.

            Rómë set her book aside with a sigh.  Her eyes, when the lifted to meet her sister's, were haunted and her face drawn with grief.

            "Rómë!  What is wrong?" Dúnë exclaimed as she fell to her knees by the bench.

            "He knows."  Dúnë blinked.  "Who knows?"

            "Estel.  Ada told him; told him everything.  He knows who he is.  He is leaving now; riding north tomorrow morning.  He's never coming back."  The last sentence was said with such force, that Dúnë knew her sister believed it to be true.

            "Oh no," she sighed.  "Why?  What made Ada tell him?"

            Her sister's eyes were distant, staring at something further off than her twin could see.

            "He met Arwen by river.  He fell in love with her," Rómë chocked, and a tear slide down her cheek.  "Ada told him he could not marry her, until he won a kingdom.  Estel can no longer stay here."  Her silver eyes turned to meet her twin's.  

            "He's leaving seler, and he's never coming back.  Never."

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            _You must think these letters too few and far between, but it is difficult to find a messenger to carry them as far north as the Baranduin.  And it is even further a journey now, for I have settled in Gondor these past months.  Thengel was loath to see me leave, but he understood, as much as he could, that I am a wanderer, and cannot bear to remain in one place for long.  _

_            Gondor is not what I thought it would be.  Ada's stories were always tales of wonder, of great kingdoms, but Gondor is only an echo now of what it once was.  Ecthelion is a good steward, and he governs the people well; but he is not a king, and Gondor is slowly loosing the battle against Sauron._

_            It is for this Ada sent me away: to rebuild this kingdom long torn asunder, but I find that I have not the strength or courage for such a task.  It would take a lifetime; but first the people must accept a king, and they will not.  For a thousand years they have lived without one, a monarchy only a distant memory in tales and legends.  They would not accept one, especially not an outsider as I am._

_            Denethor, Ecthelion's young son, seems to have taken an adverse opinion to me from the day I arrived.  He begrudges already that I am in his father's graces, and he seems to hate that I have seen more of the world than he.  We will never be friends, I believe.  But he will rule when Ecthelion dies, and in his pride he will not bow to a king.  The entire thing is surely hopeless, as Ada must know in his heart.  Perhaps that is why he sent me away in the first place, so that I would learn the truth: that Arwen will never be my wife._

_            You told me once, that she often spoke of me, before she returned to Lórien.  How can I tell her that we can never be?  That I have failed to win her hand before I even began the challenge.   It is utterly hopeless._

_            My blessing to my brothers and to Dúnë; and to Ada, if he will have them.  My love you to you seler._

_            Aragorn_

            He no longer signed it Estel; had not since he had left the north ten years before.  His journey south had seemed to mark a change; he was off to accept himself as Aragorn, and leave his past, and Estel behind.  No more was he the little boy she had held in her lap: the child who had come running to her the first time he hit the target with an arrow; the first time he had successfully tracked the twins through the woods; the first time he had fallen from a tree and broken his wrist.  She could not care for him any longer; could not kiss away his tears and rock him gently.  And she missed that most of all, even more than she missed his presence.

            Arwen had written some weeks before, asking, as she always did, whether word had come from Estel.  Rómë would have to write her back again, and tell her Aragorn was well, and that he missed her.  Little good it would do though, if they could never wed.  

            It grieved her to know her father had caused this suffering, but she understood nonetheless.  Rómë could not bare the thought of Arwen choosing mortality, even for Estel, but her sister was unhappy with Elrond's decision.  If mortality and Estel would bring Arwen happiness, as little had since Celebrían had left, then so be it; but her father thought otherwise.  He had lost his parents, his brother, his foster-father, and his wife; he would do all he could to be certain he did not loose a child as well.  

            She pulled a piece of parchment towards her and dipped a quill into the ink pot.

            _Dearest seler; it has not been long since I answered your last letter, but I have news you would wish to hear…_


	27. Councils

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

**AN: Well, this ended up WAY long than I intended.  I kind of got a little carried away.  But I was basically following book-verse, with a few movie aspects thrown in, as well as a few of my own inventions, and the chapter _is_ 40 pages long.   So I guess 4 pages for this isn't bad, right?**

**If you've read the books, you'll notice nearly all the dialogue from this is directly from the books.  Tolkien owns it, not me, but I just love this chapter so much; I didn't have the heart to write my own version.  **

**You'll also note you're getting this early.  Anyone have a problem with that?  No, didn't thinks so.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            When they were four years old Dúnë had fallen out of the ancient tree that grew over their father's council chamber.  

            Rómë wasn't sure why that particular memory had suddenly sprung to mind, but it somehow seemed an appropriate one at that very moment.  Because the twins, as well their very proper older sister, were currently ensconced in that very same tree, eavesdropping on the "secret council" their father had quite clearly stated they were not to attend.  But then, eavesdropping did not really count as attending, at least not in Rómë's mind; though she was certain it would in her father's.

            In all honesty, she was well aware Elrond knew of their presence, and always well aware there was no way he could do anything about it without being noticeable.  She would deal with the lecture later, as always, but not being at the council seemed quite unfair.  After all her brothers (all three of them) and Glorfindel were in attendance, so why should she and her sisters not be allowed?  The council's decision would affect them too.

            Rómë was also quite aware, from her high perch, that the three daughters of Elrond were not the only uninvited guests.  She could see Samwise, Frodo's servant, kidding in the bushes only a few feet from his master.  And she'd caught a small hobbit sized figure peering around one of the columns in the study; Peregrin she guessed, but where he went, Meriadoc would be too.  And Bilbo and Frodo were at the council of course: _they_ had been invited.

            So far nothing interesting had been said, or at least nothing she hadn't already heard long before.  The dwarves had spoken for a time after introductions were made, but she had barely spared a though to that.  And her father's recounting of Rings was interesting, but not new to her.  

            It was, coincidently enough, Frodo's voice that brought her attention to the circle of people below her.

            "You remember?  But I thought…I thought that the fall of Gil-galad was a long age ago."

            It seemed a harmless question, and one she had heard asked of her father before by other mortals.  But she had not often heard his answer, nor the sadness within his voice as he explained to Frodo how many years he had truly seen, and how much death and loss he had been subject too.

            And she listened too as he told of the failure of Isildur, and glanced at her youngest brother in sympathy.  It was always difficult for Aragorn to be reminded of his ancestor's weakness, but to have it brought to light in front of the representatives of the free peoples would be even harder if any there discovered who he truly was.

            The man from Gondor, Boromir she recalled, spoke at length of his purpose at the Council, and she paused in surprise as he echoed words of a poem that had once haunted her visions as well.  She saw the look in her father's eyes, as for the first time he glanced up into the tree.  He knew of course; she had told him those same words many years before, when the last child of the Dúnedain was born.  But to hear them uttered by another, and a mortal at that, seemed to add weight to them.

            But neither Rómë nor her father had much time to dwell upon the significance of this, because Aragorn did something then they would have counseled him against, had they been aware of it ahead of time.

            Rising, he drew the broken hilt of Narsil from its sheath and cast it down onto the table before Elrond, following a second later with the other half of the sword.  The entire room descended into utter silence, except for the gasp that escaped Boromir's lips and the unheard cry from Arwen, which only Elrond marked.

            But Boromir was not speechless for long.  He had come a great distance seeking answers, and here was the greatest one of all.

            "Who are you?" he demanded.

            Estel would have said something then, had Elrond not done so first.  But the revelation to the Council of the Ranger's identity seemed to cause and even greater stir than the sword had.

            Not least with Frodo.  A gleam of understanding came into his eyes, and without a seconds thought he sprang to his feet, and cried "Then it belongs to you, and not to me at all!"

            Whisper spread around the room, for few understood of what Frodo spoke, though many could guess.  

            "It does not belong to either of us, but it has been ordained that you should hold it a while," Estel explained.  Boromir glanced sharply between Aragorn and Frodo at this, perceiving suddenly what it was they spoke of.

            But Gandalf had had enough guessing games for one day.  "Bring out the Ring, Frodo!" he said.  

            Though few but the elves marked it, there was a moment of hesitation in Frodo's eyes, and Rómë knew suddenly how dear to him the thing already was.  How much more dearly would it become, if the Halfling were allowed to keep it?

            Hand trembling, Frodo set the golden thing upon the table, so that it lay near to the sword and Elrond cried "Behold Isildur's Bane!"

            Boromir's eyes glinted as he gazed upon it, and there was something akin to greed in them.  But Rómë did not hear his words, nor her brother's that answered.  She was gazing upon the Ring as all other were, but seeing more in it's depths than any other could.

            Visions assailed her mind of battles long ago; of golden rings set with stones; of great lands and greater kingdoms.  She saw the Valley of Imladris before ever the house was built; Eregion before it was laid to waste, and she caught a glimpse of Celebrimbor at his forge; she saw a older man of seeming beauty and wisdom, but knew there was darkness underneath as she saw him denied entrance to Lindon; she watched Gil-galad marching at the head of his army, and saw her father beside him; and lastly she watching Isildur cut the Ring with one hard stroke from Sauron's hand, and take it for his own.

            The last vision failed, and the Council below her came back into view, leaving her gasping for breathe.  Elrond glanced sharply up at his daughter, worry etched across his face as he realized what had happened.  Dúnë reached out a hand and took her twin's, offering what strength and calmness she could.  Rómë was thankful for it, but the horror was already fading to memory as she mastered her breathing.  She nodded at her father, assuring him with a glance she was well.

            But much had passed below her in the agonized minutes of her vision, and she heard now only Aragorn's announcement that he would go to Minas Tirith.  She nearly lost her breathe again, and knew that Arwen had as well.  This day had been long in coming; so long in fact, that a part of her had believed it would never come, and was content with that.

            But Estel's acceptance of his heritage seemed to have passed over the heads of many below, save his family's.  Already Bilbo was recounting his part in the story, small though it was.  Rómë barely listened to it, having heard it many more times than she would have liked.  But Frodo's tale was wholly new to her, for he had been awake only a day now, and she had not yet spoken with him.   But Gandalf's tale was the most upsetting, though some of it she had guessed or overheard before.   But the words of Isildur's scroll were the most startling of all, and she saw the look of sadness again cross her father's face.  And the shame in Aragorn's.

            When Gandalf read the fiery letters of the Ring she wanted to cover her ears and weep, but it did not drown out the words, nor stop the darkness they seemed to call.  But it passed quickly, for even the words of the Black Tongue could not long interrupt the peace of Imladris.

            The news of Gollum's escape was a hard blow, though she felt no anger at Legolas.  Indeed it would have been from over kindness, if anything, for though Glóin would argue it, the elves of Mirkwood were not mean folk.

            But of Saruman's betrayal she had heard not even a whisper, and it shocked her most of all.  Grievous news was it, more so because she knew how powerful he was, and how dangerous he could be.  And he was another enemy to fight, in a war that already had too strong an opposing side.  

            It seemed hopeless when her father announced there was not option but to send the Ring to Mordor and Mount Doom.  There journey itself would be nearly impossible, but none would be able to enter the lands of Sauron without capture.  

            They argued long over the decision, and over who would take it, but Rómë barely listened.  It seemed to her that Frodo was fighting an internal struggle with himself, and she wondered what it was.  He did not keep her waiting long.

            "I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way."

            The Council hushed.  The silence was not even broken by bird song.  Indeed it seemed the entire Valley had quieted in order to hear.

            Elrond was the first to break the silence.  But it his declaration caused a spark of uncertainty to appear in Frodo's eyes.  It was one thing to say he'd go, and quite another to actually be going.

            Samwise obviously thought so too.  "But you won't send him off alone surely, Master?" he cried as he scrambled from the bushes.  Frodo seemed to relax slightly with Sam's presence.

            "No indeed!" Elrond said.  "You at least shall go with him.  It is hardly possible to separate you from him, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

            Rómë stifled a laugh at the look of embarrassment that crossed the hobbit's face.  Frodo smiled wryly at his servant, and relaxed further.

            "We shall take a meal, for the Council has been long.  Please, go and rest, for nothing shall be decided for some time."  Elrond quickly dismissed the attendants, and they were quick to take his advice.

            Rómë thought they shouldn't complain; they hadn't been ensconced in a tree for the entire thing after all.

            Arwen climbed down first and practically ran into Aragorn's arms.  He glanced once at his father before leading her off.  Gandalf nodded at Elrond as Rómë and Dúnë climbed down, and took his leave, no doubt to find Frodo.

            Elrond was looking at his daughters expectantly.  

            "We're sorry adar," they chorused together.

            "I'm quite certain you are.  Dúnë, I should like to speak with your sister alone."

            Andúnë looked about ready to argue, but thought better of it.  

            She had barely disappeared through the study, leaving her father and twin alone, when Elrond grasped his daughter's hand and drew her close.

            "Are you well, iell nin?  And do not lie."  She knew well she could not, for his healer's senses would tell the truth.

            "I am well now, ada, I swear.  They are always hard, but I recover quickly."

            "And what did you see?"  He seemed to know the answer already.

            "Battles, Kingdoms, the history of the Rings." She smiled slightly.  "I saw this Valley as it was when first you came here.  I like it better now."

            Elrond chuckled.  "I agree.  Come, you should eat something; you are still weak from the seeing."

            She didn't argue; with or without a vision, she had still spent the entire morning stuck up in a tree.

**Review! Review!  They are welcomed and treasured, each and every one!**


	28. Goodbyes and Greetings

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

**AN: Last full chapter.  Epilogue will follow tomorrow.  The beginning quote is from Two Towers.**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

_Minlû pedich nin, i aur hen telitha. ~ _You told me once, this day would come.

            "We will not leave, Ada.  Not yet at least.  We cannot leave her here, to fade alone after he is gone.  She is our sister.  We will sail West soon enough with the twins, or with Legolas.  But we cannot leave now.  I am sorry Adar."

            Elrond looked at her, grief marring his face as it had for the past two months.  Ever since Estel had been crowned.  Ever since he had realized without a doubt that he would loose Arwen as he had lost his brother.  And now, here were his youngest, telling him he was to loose them as well.  

            "It is not forever Ada.  You will see us soon enough.  Time passes differently in the Blessed Lands.  Our parting will not be long."  Arómenë's eyes said what her voice could not:  _It will not be long before he dies.  Before she dies._

            Elrond was struck suddenly with how selfish he was being.  He was leaving, abandoning Arwen forever more; the least he could do was allow his other daughters to remain with her until her end.  And to wish for their quick arrival in Valinor was to wish for the quick death of his foster-son, and he did not want that.  Not truly.

            "And what of your mother?  She has waited five centuries to see you.  You will make her wait more?" but even as he said it he knew it was a feeble plea.  Celebrían would understand their choice more than he ever would.

            "A small number of years more will not matter Ada.  We miss her, yes, but we will spend eternity with you on Aman.  Fate has granted us only a few remaining years with Arwen.  We will not waste it."  The twins had obviously made up their minds in this.  There would be no changing them.

            "Then I cannot condone forcing you to accompany me West against your will.  I give you my blessing, however much I grieve for the separation.  May you not regret your choice.  And may you come West, with your brothers and the Prince, for I would not loose any more of you to mortality."

            Dúnë smiled sadly at him.  "We swear we will come.  You have our word.  And our word also that we shall not leave the twins nor my betrothed here."

            For the first time in days a smile touched the Lord's lips.  "No, I would not believe for a moment you would leave Legolas behind!  But I will surely cheer your mother by telling her she will have a wedding to plan, on your arrival."

            He acknowledge the fleeting look of longing that appeared in his youngest's eyes before she pushed it away in favor of a supporting grin for her sister.  Inwardly Elrond sighed.  He hoped that she would one day be able to love; on Aman and not here, in a mortal as her sister had.

            Andúnë stepped up to her father and embraced him, taking his mind off his saddened thoughts.  "Everything will be fine, Ada.  I know."

            He froze at that comment, staring at her sharply, but she would not elaborate more.  Perhaps he truly did worry for naught, and his daughters had seen their futures and knew what they contained.  But suddenly he wasn't afraid of loosing them anymore.

            "Hannon le, iell nin.  You gladden my heart."

            "That is what I am here for Ada; that is what _we_ are here for," the twins smiled at him.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            Of all the grief that Elrond had suffered in his long life; all the death he had witnessed; all the farewells he had ever had to say; all the things he had wished never to do; this, he reasoned, had to be the hardest.

            To be reunited with his wife who had been wrongfully parted from him for neigh on five hundred years should have been perhaps the happiest moment of his life; and one he most certainly deserved after everything.  But there was little joy in this, and much more sorrow, for the both of them.

            To loose a daughter was unthinkable, but to have to inform the mother belatedly of that loss was that hardest thing Elrond had ever had to do.  He was sure of it.

            As the green shores drew closer and the forms of those waiting on the pier became visible to even mortal eyes, Elrond beheld his wife awaiting him.  And he grieved for what was to come.

            "She will understand more than you think, I believe.  She is her mother's daughter in that, if only."

            Elrond glanced beside him to find the former Lady of the Golden Wood.  "But it will grieve her nonetheless.  Even more, that I have left all of them there, though some may pass this way yet."       

            "They will pass; did not your daughters promise you?"

            "Yes, but small consolation it will be to their mother.  Ai, to know joy once more; what a thing that would be!"

            Galadriel looked out towards the approaching shore and saw her daughter there, and she smiled.  "You will know joy again, Elrond, I promise you," she said and turned away.

            Elrond looked back towards his wife's growing form, and for the first time in many long months, he found cause to smile.

            Yes, he had left his children behind, and two of them he would not see again till the world's ending; but the others would come, soon enough.  And perhaps here, on these green shores, they would have the chance at a new life.  A chance, once again, to find the joy of living so long denied.   He would try at the least.

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

            A green shore under a shinning sun.  A tall, regal elf with midnight hair.  Hadn't that been her vision in the mirror?  Her future?

            And here she was, standing in the shadows of white sails as the deck swayed under her feet and the sun shone down from a sapphire sky.  And before her lay green lands and high mountains, and her parents waiting on the wharf with a strange elf.

            But as she stepped off the ship with her sisters and brothers and into their parents waiting arms, she knew, and she wondered at how she had not known before who this king among elves was.  For indeed, she now knew he _was_ a king, or had been.  Ereinion Gil-galad, last High King of the Noldor in Middle-earth; her father's own foster-father and, she recalled her grandmother's close kin.

            The Mirror of Galadriel did not show all things; and those things it did show were not always true.  But that small vision of the future she had seen as a mere child all those yéni ago was standing now before her.  And suddenly the cry of a babe echoed in her mind and she knew, with absolute certainty that he was hers, and the child was theirs. 

            "Arómenë, may I present Ereinion Fingonion.  Erei, this is my youngest daughter."  She would have continued to stare at him forever had her father not spoken.  But now that he had she wished he had been silent, for she wanted suddenly to gaze at this elven king forever, if only from afar.

            She flushed like a young maiden and dropped a curtsy to him.  "My Lord Gil-galad," she whispered, as if the name itself was something to be revered; and perhaps it was.

            "You need never bow to me Lady Arómenë.  You are after all, almost my granddaughter.  'Tis I who am honored to meet one whose father speaks so highly of her."  And he bowed his head in respect.  

            She loved him then, from that moment; if she hadn't already loved him from before.

            He would later tell her that he had loved her then too, and wanted nothing more than to look upon her face all the rest of his days; till the ending of the world itself.  

            And that he had dreamed of her as well.


	29. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:  I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings.  I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books.  Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man).  Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.**

**AN:  Well, here it is…the end.  Jeez, it's only taken me 15 months!  Will never write another story this long ever again, I swear.  It's been a nice ride, except the instances when the muse ran off and left me hanging.  :D**

**Thanks for everything!**

~~~~OOOOO~~~~

Epilogue

He tried to remember if he had ever been more nervous in either of his long lives, but nothing was readily coming to mind.  He had certainly never been this scared; even during times when he was sure everyone else around him had been, but this was not one of those times.

            The lack of anyone else pacing the floor with an anxious look on their face, told him he was in the minority this time.  Of course, she wasn't anyone else's wife, and it wasn't anyone else's child being born today.

            He had just begun his thousand and eightieth lap of the hallway when the door he was observing so intently was opened from inside.  His feet stopped immediately and the anxious look on his face multiplied ten fold; for he was sure he had heard no baby's wail nor any other sound one expected from a birthing room.  But then, he hadn't exactly been focused on anything except his to and fro pacing.

            But Elrond smiled at him, and he relaxed a bit, if only enough to realize the Half-Elf held something bundled in his arms.

            "Congratulations meldir, you have a son," and he placed the child into Ereinion's waiting, but slightly shaking arms.  "He is perfectly healthy, and Rómë is doing just fine.  You need fear for her safety no longer."

            Ereinion sent a sharp glance at Elrond at that comment, but quickly realized his father-in-law not only had five children of his own, but had delivered dozens more.  No doubt he was quite familiar with the terror a waiting father experienced.

            "Come inside," Elrond motioned towards the door.  "Rómë wishes to see you."

            The former High King followed the healer into the room he had, until then, been barred from; and as the door shut behind him he vaguely heard the shouts of congratulations and happiness from the hall outside.

            "He's beautiful, iell nin." Elrond stroked the soft raven hair of the infant's head.  

            "He's perfect," Celebrían agreed, sitting on the other side of her daughter.  "As perfect as you."

            Their youngest smiled wearily at her parents.  "No doubt you said the same thing about all of us when we were born."  Her mother's smile gave her away.  "Ada, will you take him to Ereinion?  Let him hold him?"  

            "Of course, iell."  Elrond lifted the child gently from its mother's arms and disappeared through the closed door.

            "How do you feel?" the elf-lady asked her.  Rómë smiled again, she could not seem to help it.  "More exhausted then I thought possible, but happier than I can remember."

            The door opened again, and Ereinion and Elrond entered, the babe held tightly in her husband's embrace.  Celebrían moved to allow Ereinion to sit down upon the bed.  The movement cause the little one to open his eyes to his father for the first time and let out a sharp cry.  

            Three sets of light laughter drifted through the room as Rómë took her son back and put him to her breast.  Her parents quickly vanished from the room, leaving them alone.

            "Are you happy?" she asked suddenly, eyes focused on her son.  

            Ereinion said nothing for a moment until she turned to look at him and then he nodded.  "Perfectly," he said and kissed her softly on the forehead.

            "I am glad.  For I am _perfectly_ happy as well."

**~The End~**


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